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Housekeeping in Berlin 

The Innocenct of Maria Jenkyn 


Beyond the Mexican Boedek 
A Tale of the Wind 
My Hydeangeas .... 
Pabis feom the Top of an Omnibus 
Twilight on Waban 


A Pupil of Sturm .... 
To My Lady . . . ... 



Fbee Press 


Book Reviews 

Books Received .... 

Society Notes 

College Bulletin .... 

College Notes 

Alumnae Notes . . 




Ethel Paton 

Mary Hollands McLean 
Joanna Parker, '96 
Agnes L. Caldwell, '96 . 
Florence Annette Wing, '92 

Nancy K. Foster . 
Eha Hulburd Young, '96 
Blanche Louise Clay, '92 
F. S., '97 ... 
Lydia Southard, '98 
























idol id — IRovember, 1895 — mo. 2 

Entered In the Post Office at Wellesley, Hast)., as second-class matter. 




. . . ON • • • 


Exchange on London, Paris and Berlin. 


50 State St., Boston. 



! And BipiiQ!3nieres.Suitat)Jie for Presents. 

h «l 146 TREMONT STREET, JL f 

5 "fT^Bet. West St. and Temple Place,.* .tfU 
5Jffl».^ BOSTON, Mass. ^»«!ffiili> 

Candies carefully packed and shippftff 
To all parts ef (he Country by^il!itEbiB» 


Correct Styles . . . 
Fair Prices. 

Edward Kakas & Sons 

No. 162 Tremont Street, 
Boston, Mass. 

Repairing Wo Done Promptly. 


Stationers iP Engravers 


20 per cent Discount 


Made by Wellesley College Students. 

5 Somerset St. (near Beacon), 

Joel Goldthwait & Company. 

Oriental Carpets and Rugs. 

Axminsters, Wilton and 
Brussels Carpets. 

We are now ready to show the 
finest line we ever opened in . . 

Foreign and Domestic Carpets. 

All new in style and adapted to 
the present furnishings 


Our open stock is full at prices 
lower than ever 

Joel Goldthwait & Company, 

163 to 169 Washington Street, 
Boston, Mass. 

Near Cornhlll. 

The Wellesley Magazine. 

Vol. IV. WELLESLEY, NOVEMBER 9, 1895. No. 2. 








The Wellesley Magazine is published monthly, from October to June, by a board of editors 
chosen from the Senior Class. 

All literary contributions may be sent to Miss J. H. Batchelder, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

All items of college interest, and communications to be inserted in the department of Free Press, 
will be received by Miss Mary Hefleran, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

All alumnse news should be sent to Miss Maude R. Keller, Wellesley, Mass. 

Advertising business is conducted by Miss Annie H. Peaks, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

Subscriptions to the Magazine and other business communications should in all cases be sent to 
Miss Cora E. Stoddard, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

Terms, $2.00 per year; single copies, 25 cents. Payment should be made by money order. 


Every year it is becoming more the fashion and custom for Americans 
to go abroad and remain in continental cities for purposes of recreation and 
study. Paris has doubtless a larger number of "Americans," as all from the 
western coast of the Atlantic are called by those on its eastern shores, than 
has any other European city ; but those who have tried both Berlin and Paris 
will tell you that, in spite of the gayety and attractions of the French 
metropolis, they prefer the German city for permanent residence. I have 
never kept house in Paris, so I can make no comparisons, and I have never 
lived for any length of time in any continental city but Berlin ; but a fifteen 
months' experience in that city as a housekeeper has given me sufficient data 
to speak with accuracy and fullness upon housekeeping in Berlin. Others 
who have lived there may differ from me on many points ; hence I wish to 
emphasize the fact that what I say is to be regarded merely as the experience 
of the writer. 

For those who would keep house in Berlin, apartments are attractive 
and rents moderate. I say " apartments " because apartments only are to be 


had, since the Germans, with the exception of the nobility and the extremely 
wealthy, never think of living in a whole house in a city like Berlin. The 
Berlin apartment houses are built on an entirely different plan from those in 
this country. The law requires that one third of the area of the building lot 
be left free as an open court. All the houses are built around a large court, 
and the rooms are lighted by windows on the street or this court ; small air 
shafts are thus unnecessary ; the ventilation is good, and dark rooms are 
seldom found, though many apartments have dark halls. The court is 
usually paved, and sometimes is rendered quite attractive by a small garden 
with grass and flowers, which usually belongs to the occupants of the first 
floor. Since the law forbids the erection of a house to a height greater than 
the width of the street on which it stands, Berlin houses rarely have more 
than four stories, and in the older parts of the city, where the streets are 
narrow, they have only two stories and a basement. Since very few, and 
these only the most expensive and newest houses, have elevators in them, 
one is very thankful that this law exists, — limiting the height of the houses, — 
for the stairs would be an insurmountable objection to many apartments 
otherwise desirable. 

The average Berlin apartment is extremely attractive and commodious 
in its general arrangement. The rooms are all larger and lighter, and the 
ceilings higher than in the average New York flat. Two general plans of 
arrangement prevail, the differences depending almost entirely upon whether 
the house has one or two entrances. The apartments which have two 
entrances, one on the street and a rear entrance from the court, are most 
desirable. The front door opens as a rule into a small hall, off of which open 
the parlors, dining room, and one bedroom. The parlors front on the street, 
and the dining room, with one large window on the court, forms the connect- 
ing link between the front rooms and the back hall, and is so characteristic a 
feature of the Berlin apartment that it is called the " Berliue Zimmer" or 
" Berlin room." From the back hall, running parallel to the length of the 
court, open the bedrooms, bathroom, and kitchen, and the back stairs com- 
municating with the court, cellar, and attic. 

In the houses with but one entrance the arrangement is decidedly 
inferior. The first room to be passed on entering the front and only 
entrance is the kitchen, because all supplies have to be carried up the front 


stairs. In order to reach the parlor one must go through a long hall, pass 
all the bedrooms, bathroom, and kitchen, and must know exactly what has 
been cooking for dinner ; that is, if one can distinguish the fresh odors from 
those that have been prevalent for the past week. In both kinds of flats the 
rooms are always light, but the halls are usually dark. Some light is 
admitted through ground-glass panels in the bedroom doors, and occasionally 
a small balcony at the end of the hall on the court takes the place of an end 
room, and the glass doors opening upon it give plenty of light and possibility 
for good ventilation. 

All the houses are furnished with the city water, which is excellent, 
fairly good plumbing, and gas. The outside halls and court are kept clean 
by a porter, who lives in the basement, and who usually carries on a little 
business of some sort, so that all the houses, even in the purely residential 
parts of the city, have shops under them. The porter locks up at ten each 
evening, and unless the occupants of the apartments carry their night keys 
when they are out in the evening the porter must be aroused, generally with 
great difficulty, and a fee must be given for his trouble. 

Each tenant has a small locked bin in the cellar in which to keep his 
■coal and wood, and a small attic room for the storage of trunks. There is 
but one pantry in a Berlin flat, and that is in the kitchen. Wardrobes must 
be used in all the rooms, and cupboards must stand in the dining room and 
halls. The better Berlin apartments are handsomely finished and decorated, 
having really beautiful inlaid hard-wood floors in the parlors and dining room, 
stained floors in the bedrooms, and tiled floor and lower walls in the kitchen. 

In heating apparatus the Berliners are far behind the "Americans." 
Steam heat and hot air are practically unknown. All the rooms are heated 
by large stoves, reaching from floor to ceiling, made of colored or white 
porcelain tiles, with brass or nickel doors and trimmings, some of the stoves 
being exceedingly artistic and ornamental, while others are painfully 
suggestive of a family monument. Brickets of pressed coal are burned, and 
the fire must be made every morning, and in very cold weather twice or three 
times a day. The fireplace, which is small, is in the lower part of the stove, 
while the whole upper part is filled with a long coil of iron pipe. A little 
paper and a few small bits of kindling wood are laid in the fireplace, and from 
ten to twenty brickets placed on top of them. This is lighted, and allowed 


to burn with open door until the brickets are all aglow and just ready to 
crumble. The double doors are then closed and screwed up tight with a key, 
so that no draught can enter. In a short time the tiles begin to radiate a 
gentle heat, communicated to them by the coil of iron pipe, which holds the 
heat for some hours. At no time is the stove so hot that one cannot bear his 
hand on it, and these " Berline Oefen," as they are called, are made with 
ornamental mantels on them. With these stoves the rooms may be kept very 
comfortable, but the floors are usually very cold. 

The kitchen stove is a curious structure to American eyes. It is made 
of white porcelain tiles, with polished brass doors and trimmings and cast-iron 
top. The ordinary German " Kochmachine " has but one hole, which is 
directly over the grate, but this is covered by a series of concentric rings, so- 
that it may be made to suit a pot of any size. Directly over the grate and 
around this hole the stove becomes very hot, but on any other part of the 
stove dishes may be set with perfect safety. A mixture of coke and soft coal 
is burned, and the fire is allowed to go out after each meal, since it is so 
easily lighted and burns so freely that one can make a fresh fire and have 
boiling water in from fifteen to twenty minutes. The baking ovens, two in 
number, are back of the stove, and are heated by a separate fire. The oven 
may be heated in about twenty minutes, and is admirably adapted for meats ; 
but the heat from below is so great that puddings, cakes, etc., will burn 
black on the bottom before they are half baked through or browned on top. 
I found after considerable experiment that a sheet of asbestos paper a quarter 
of an inch thick served to cut off the direct heat and diffuse it more generally 
throughout the oven, and rendered it possible to bake all our popular 
American delicacies with success, but bread could not be well baked in our 
German oven. Water for dishwashing, etc., must usually be heated in 
kettles on the stove, and a separate fire must be made under a large boiler in 
the bathroom when hot water is desired there. 

Rents are moderate in Berlin ; for less than forty dollars a month one can 
get a flat of at least eight rooms and bath, all large, well lighted and finished, 
and surpassing in every particular a flat of the same price in New York, and the 
house will be located in a most desirable part of the city, convenient to all car 
lines, fine markets, and shops. Furniture also may be rented at very reason- 
able rates, the prices, of course, varying with the style and quantity selected* 


Having obtained a flat, the next question to be settled by one planning 
to reside in Berlin would be that great one, "the servant question." Until I 
went to Germany to live, and heard the German housewives condole with one 
another over their domestic troubles, I had supposed that in the "Father- 
land," if anywhere, the good old conditions of domestic felicity existed, and 
that servants in Germany were as a rule trustworthy and permanent ; but, 
alas ! observation has fully convinced me to the contrary. Fortunately, very 
fortunately, I had little or no trouble myself, for by some lucky chance I had 
to come in contact with but two maids during my fifteen months' experience ; 
but when I saw no less than eight servants come and go in a neighboring 
flat inside of five months, I felt sure that something was radically wrong 
somewhere. I do not care to discuss the servant question of Germany or of 
the United States, but, like every question, it has two sides. There is the 
side of the maid and that of the mistress ; and I think that if the question 
should come to an issue in either country, in Germany I would side with the 
maid, and at home with the mistress. Much might be said of the relation 
of the maid to her German mistress, the result of observation, but I do not 
purpose to give anything but the result of experience ; hence I shall tell only 
the conditions as I found them, and as every Berlin resident must find them. 

The work which must be required of a servant in a Berlin apartment is 
hard. All the coal and wood has to be carried by her from the cellar to the 
floor occupied by the family she serves, no elevators being provided even for 
this purpose. In cold weather she must keep sufficient fuel on hand for the 
stoves, from five to ten in number, and must light these stoves daily, — some 
of them before the family are up, — so that the rooms may be warm when 
they arise. The brass and nickel on the stoves must be polished ; the 
hard-wood floors waxed and polished, the rugs shaken, and the large win- 
dows, all of which have double sashes, must be frequently washed. All this 
is outside the kitchen. Washing may be done in the house, for a large 
laundry is usually to be found in the basement, and a drying room in the 
attic. But the American resident usually prefers to send the washing out to 
a laundry or washwoman. Besides the housework, the housekeeper is 
obliged to make a demand upon her servant rarely made here; viz., the 
going to market. Every mistress must either go to market or send her 
maid, for goods are not delivered as they are here, without a fee to the 


carrier, and the servant must daily take her big basket and net with handles 
and walk behind her mistress, taking all her purchases, and carrying often a 
very heavy load. 

The room provided for a servant in the flats is usually very small and 
inconvenient, and in many of the older houses the accommodation made for 
them would not be tolerated here by either mistress or servant. I have been 
in many houses where the servant's room, if it could be so called, was only 
a sort of loft made by putting a floor half way up to the ceiling in the bath 
room. This loft was lighted by half of the bath-room window, and was 
reached by a short ladder. I have been in a flat where the kitchen pantry 
was divided in the same way ; and in one case I saw a loft built in the 
corner of the kitchen to furnish a sleeping place for a third servant, when 
the one over the bath room, about five by ten feet, was used by two others. 
The American housekeeper will not give her maid such a room, and she 
will give her good furnishings for the room she does have. I once heard a 
German lady say, and she was a kind, large-hearted woman, too, "Why, 

can you believe it? Frau lets her servant have a washstand in her 

room, and white sheets on her bed!" This was, perhaps, an exceptional 
remark, yet much observation made me feel that there were good reasons 
why the American housekeepers kept their servants a good while and found 
them honest and faithful. 

The average wages for the " maid of all work" is from twelve to sixteen 
marks, or from three to four dollars per month, but a good servant may earn 
four dollars and a half or even five dollars. In some cases they are given 
higher wages, but are then expected to feed themselves ; but in arrangements 
of this kind the wages are not proportionally high enough, and a girl is 
sometimes found to be dishonest. The faithful servant who remains some 
time in her place expects, and receives, a present of about three or five dollars 
at Christmas. The servants are usually paid in " thalers " or three-mark 
silver pieces, and I had always supposed they preferred these large pieces 
to smaller coin, until one time being unable to get the thalers readil}' our 
servant was paid with a gold piece. She clapped her hands and danced for 
joy like a little child, and told me excitedly it was the first gold piece she 
had ever owned. Most servants expect that if they break things their wages 
will be reduced by the value of the article broken, but the regulation of this 


matter lies wholly in the hands of the mistress. A servant rarely expects 
more than one " evening out" in two weeks. 

In Berlin certain police regulations exist, which are strictly enforced, 
and which protect both servant and employer from any imposition on the part 
of either party, if the other chooses to complain. In the first place every 
servant is required to register at the police station of the district into which 
she comes. This must be done within three days after change of residence, 
and must be accompanied by formal dismissal from the district which she 
leaves. Every servant is obliged to keep a book, which must contain her 
references and recommendations, and in which her mistress must write, if 
she discharges her, the grounds she had for so doing. A mistress may not 
discharge a girl under fifteen days' notice when she is engaged by the 
month, nor may a servant leave on shorter notice ; but if the maid be 
engaged by the year, as is often the case, change can be made only at the 
end of the quarter. If a mistress insists on a servant's leaving before the 
end of the quarter, she must pay her wages until the end of the quarter, 
unless it can be proved that the girl has been dishonest, in which case she is 
dealt with by the police. The law requires that every servant shall be 
insured against sickness or inability to work, by the purchase of government 
stamps weekly. These stamps are pasted in a book, their value varying 
with the wages received : they are in some cases paid for by the servant and 
in others by the mistress, according to the arrangement when the engage- 
ment is made. 

A society exists for the protection of the mistress in cases where the 
maid has been engaged for a long period, and for any reason becomes dis- 
abled ; for the mistress is obliged to care for the servant until the expiration 
of the period, when the government becomes responsible. By paying 
seventy-five cents a year to this society a mistress may be relieved at once of 
the care of her disabled servant. When the American lady goes to Berlin 
she has to find out all these things by degrees, and often by bitter experience. 
She must learn what is expected of her as a mistress, and what she may and 
must expect of her German maid ; but it is safe to say that she can readily 
obtain a good honest girl, and that the latter will be contented and happy, 
and will have never enjoyed such privileges and had so much consideration 
shown her as she will find in her home with an American mistress. 


Having secured an apartment and competent help, housekeeping in 
Berlin is easily carried on, and a very good table, and a good American table, 
may be set without extraordinary efforts at catering. If the family catered 
for like German dishes the variety may be greater, and of course the 
American lady who keeps house in Berlin must herself superintend the 
cooking if it is to be done in American fashion ; and my experience was that 
all cakes, desserts, etc., must be made and cooked by oneself, since the 
average German servant has never done anything but plain cooking, and has 
never seen any such things made in the German households in which she has 
lived. The average servant in Germany seems much more dependent than 
the servant in this country, this dependence being, doubtless, the result of 
the close personal supervision of the German mistress. The American lady 
must keep a strict watch and give many lessons, else the family will fare 
badly, for the meats and vegetables will receive remarkable treatment in 
some cases. Our servants had neither of them ever seen anything broiled, 
had never heard of mashed potatoes, and had never seen toast made ; and as 
for a pie or a boiled fruit pudding, the idea had never entered their heads 
that such things could be, although both maids were exceedingly capable 
and well-trained in most respects. 

Bread, as I said above, cannot be baked in the ordinary German kitchen 
stove, and hence one must buy all the bread used. Most Americans learn 
to like the German " black bread," made of rye and wheat, and all like the 
delicious little crusty rolls, or " Broedchen." Besides these, good white bread 
can be obtained at all the bakeries, which are numerous, since all Berliners 
buy their bread. Milk is readily obtained, and good, pure milk. One man, 
C. Bolle, has the monopoly of the milk trade of the city, and a visit to the 
headquarters of the establishment at 99 Alt Moabit is well worth the effort. 
Milk raw and sterilized, skimmed milk, cream, whipped cream and butter, 
are delivered by Bolle's wagons, and all of the very best. The raw milk is 
sold for five and one-quarter cents a liter, a liter being a little less than a 
quart. Skimmed milk is two and one-half cents, sterilized milk is eleven 
and one-quarter cents, cream twenty cents a liter, and butter is sold at from 
thirty-five cents to forty-five cents a pound, the price being regulated by the 
age, the highest in price being that sold on the day it is made. 

Groceries are obtained in shops, and most of our standard groceries can 


be had. Canned goods, such as peas, beans, etc., are inferior to the Amer- 
ican snoods, corn cannot be found, and tomatoes are strained and made into a 
kind of sauce, good for flavoring soups, but for no other purpose. One will 
look in vain for the fancy biscuits and crackers so abundant and in such 
variety here, and will sigh over some prices. Most of the staple groceries 
bring the same prices as they do here, but flour is sold at the rate of about 
sixteen dollars a barrel. Sugar costs about a cent a pound more than it 
does here, and is all beet sugar. Coffee when roasted is always burned 
perfectly black. Good Java coffee is worth forty cents a pound, and unless 
one roasts one's own coffee it must be made in the German fashion, which 
demands the burning that is always given to the bean. 

Berlin is well supplied with markets. There are in the city twelve 
large covered " Markt hallen," and several open-air markets are held on 
market days in various parts of the city. The market halls are open daily 
from six a. m. until one p. m., and then closed for cleaning, and reopened 
from five until eight, and on Saturdays from five until nine. Tuesday and 
Friday are market days, and on these days especially fine fruit, vegetables, 
and poultry may be found, since the peasants come in from the country with 
their produce. In all the Berlin market halls one may buy fresh and 
smoked meats and fish, poultry, domestic and foreign fruits, vegetables, 
eggs, butter, cheese, lard, sausages in immense variety, bread and cakes, 
flowers, baskets, wooden ware, brushes, ropes, twines, and staple groceries ; 
and moreover pigeons, canary birds, white mice, gold fish and rabbits are 
offered among the other attractions. Nearly all the stalls are attended by 
women, even the butchers being of the gentler sex, and old women with 
large baskets strapped to their backs wait around the door, and for a few 
cents may be hired to carry home the purchases of the lady who has no maid 
with her. 

The lady who would do her marketing successfully and get good prices, 
must be wholly indifferent to smiles and flattery, and must know what she 
wants, and know what is good or the contrary. One is called " my gra- 
cious lady," "my dear lady," "my beautiful Fraulein," "my bright-eyed 
little lady," and is urged in the most insinuating terms to buy "this wonder- 
fully beautiful pickled herring " or "extraordinarily delicious sauerkraut" 
by a dozen energetic market women, most of whom speak " Plattdeutsch," 


a knowledge of which is exceedingly helpful in marketing. One must 
know too about the cuts of meat, and learn the peculiarities of the German 
" cuts," and must learn by experience that the terms carefully looked up in 
the dictionary before starting out are not the ones by which the articles are 
commonly called. I do not know how the German butchers cut their 
beeves, but I do know that one can buy neither a sirloin nor a porterhouse 
steak, and that the fillet is always cut out and sold at a higher price by itself. 

Meats are expensive. Beef for roasting costs twenty-two and a half 
cents a pound, round of beef twenty cents, veal twenty-five, mutton averages 
eighteen and three-quarter cents and pork twenty-two. Boiled ham is forty 
cents and boiled tongue fifty, and all are much smaller and inferior to our 
American meats. 

The smaller fish are kept alive in the markets in tanks of water. The 
" gracious Fraulein" who wishes to buy, looks into the tank and picks out 
her fish ; the market woman then catches him in a scoop net and drops him, 
wriggling and flopping, into a deep scale pan. Shad, bluefish, halibut and 
smelts are unknown, but soles, flounders, herring and many other good but 
unnameable pan fish may be had at an average price of twenty cents. 
Norway salmon is thirty-seven and a half cents a pound, and Rhine River 
salmon brings seventy-five cents. Shellfish are rarely seen ; the oysters are 
small and tasteless, and clams are unknown. Shrimps are occasionally seen, 
and lobsters, very, very small ones, are to be had occasionally at thirty- 
seven and a half cents a pound, and the shells are, of course, included in the 

During the winter months vegetables are scarce in the Berlin markets. 
Very few things except the members of the cabbage family can be found, 
but this family is well represented. The summer vegetables are abundant 
and cheap. New potatoes are twenty cents a' peck, peas twenty-five cents a 
peck, wax beans five cents a quart, etc. Tomatoes are scarce and poor, and 
are worth ten cents a pound. Squash is never seen ; cucumbers are abun- 
dant and cheap. 

At no time of the year is fruit as cheap and abundant as it is in any of 
our cities. In winter, apples, oranges, and lemons are the only fruits to be 
obtained. Bananas are never seen in the markets, but may be bought in 
the delicatessen shops at the fabulous price of twenty-five cents apiece. 


Strawberries rarely get below fifteen cents a quart ; red raspberries are 
about the same, and currants are seven cents when cheapest. The cherries 
and plums surpass our fruit in quality and quantity. 

In spite of some drawbacks, Berlin offers more attractions than hin- 
drances to those Americans who wish to go abroad and reside for a time, 
and who desire to enjoy the comforts and pleasures of home life in the midst 
of a foreign people. An American can keep a truly American home in a 
Berlin flat, and come back to his home on this side of the water with his 
head full of pleasant memories and his heart full of tender recollections of 
the Kaiser stadt. 

Ethel Paton. 


In an out-of-the-way corner of the State of New Jersey, about twelve 
miles from the nearest station of the Pennsylvania Railroad, the village of 
East William dozes, yawns, and grows gray, in unchanging calm. It is a 
town of absolute content. There are no poor people and no rich people. 
Dutchmen, Yankees, and Quakers from Pennsylvania, all live on their rich, 
red farm lands, and have plenty. 

It was my good fortune to spend one long, sleepy summer under the 
elms and poplars of East William. Miss Betty Asher furnished me with 
board and lodging ; the townsfolk, inheritors of traditions so widely differing 
each from the others, afforded me an interest and a study; and of amuse- 
ments one has no need in East William. Miss Betty said that no one was 
ever bored there, within her recollection. 

Miss Betty Asher came of New England stock, and her grandmother 
had trained her in true Vermont fashion. Miss Betty's kitchen shone with 
elaborate cleanliness. Miss Betty herself wore green calico dresses, — whether 
from choice, or as a matter of principle, I do not know, — and held in seemly 
reverence her "first-best" bonnet. Her house and farm were always in 
order. Indeed, I used, during the first days of my stay in East William, to 
wish that some element of disorder, or chance, or uncertainty might be in- 
troduced into the perfect regularity of our lives. 


Such an element was furnished by the coming of Maria Jenkyn. I had 
never heard my hostess speak of Maria until, one July evening, as we sat 
at supper in the kitchen, with the breath of honeysuckle from the doorway 
striking softly across our faces now and then, Miss Betty announced her 

" Mari' Jenkyn's comin' back to-morrow." 

" Is she?" said I. " Who is she? I don't know about her, do I?" 

"No; I ain't told ye," answered Miss Betty. "She ain't nobody 
p'ticeler, far's I know. She's jus' Mari' Jenkyn. She's comin' to-morrow." 

"Is she coming here?" I asked. " Maria Jenkyn" suggested to me a 
tall, faded-eyed Welsh woman, gaunt, a dyspeptic, a country school-teacher, 
with a bad temper and little worldly learning. Perhaps my tone was not as 
eager as Miss Betty had expected. 

Miss Betty eyed me severely over her peaches. The light was too dim 
for her to see my face distinctly. A little uncomfortable silence fell between 
us. Then she addressed herself once more to the peaches, flinging at me, 
at intervals, a nod of scornful patience. 

" She's comin'," reiterated Miss Betty. 

" You must be very glad," I ventured. I would make any concessions 
for peace, — such peace as East William afforded me. 

" I be," answered Miss Betty, placated at once. " She's as nice a child 
as ever stepped ! " And nothing more could I learn from her about Maria 
Jenkyn that evening. 

The next morning, as I wiped the breakfast dishes, Miss Betty told me 
the whole story of Maria's life. Her father had been a traveling tinker. 
One winter's night he died, overcome by drink and exposure, just outside 
East William. The town buried him, and Miss Betty Asher took his little 
daughter home with her after the funeral. She had kept the child ever 
since. Maria Jenkyn had been spending the week with Miss Betty's sister 
in Double River. Now she was coming home again, and this good Miss 
Betty was radiant. 

I must confess that I dreaded an invasion of my Dream-Town by the 
newcomer. Miss Betty saw this, and taxed me with it in her frank fashion, 
administering in the same breath consolation and advice, and both so skill- 
fully hashed as to seem but a cozy dish of gossip. In the end, even before 


the house was " redded up " for the day, I was as eager as she to catch the 
nutter of Maria Jenkyn's gown from the door of Dirk Vannermadt's meat 
cart, as its slow wheels crawled gently along the winding red road. Maria 
Jenkyn was to drive down from Double River in the meat cart. 

She came. Miss Betty was grim with joy, and towered up, angular and 
imposing, upon the doorstep, her spectacles pushed far down her nose, her 
green calico dress very stiff in the flounce, her " second-best " bonnet perched 
austerely upon her tight-drawn hair. She knit frantically all the while on a 
white woolen sock. Maria Jenkyn jumped down from the cart and ran up 
the garden path, smiling and blushing her thanks to stout Dirk Vannermadt, 
the butcher, who came puffing up the slope behind her, bringing his passen- 
ger's bandbox. 

"How de do, Maria Jenkyn?" said Miss Betty, knitting stitches 
which she spent ten minutes in raveling later in the day. " Good day, 

She turned toward me and was about to introduce me, when Maria 
Jenkyn seized one of her hands and laid her own round little cheek against 
it. Miss Betty was forced to stop knitting, and in consequence could not 
trust herself to speak. She stood there on the stone step, ungainly and 
joyful. Dirk Vannermadt and I looked on. 

Maria Jenkyn was very tiny. My first impression of her as she ran 
up the path was of a child ten or eleven years old, " dressed up " in a pink 
frock of her mother's, which was a trifle too long for her. I saw now that 
she was older, perhaps eighteen or nineteen. She was as pretty, and fresh, 
and dainty a bit of girlhood as I ever saw. 

"Bless the innocent!" said I, involuntarily. Dirk Vannermadt's fat 
chuckle gave his approval of my sentiment. Miss Betty Asher extricated 
her hand with a jerk, and went on with her knitting, ejaculating under her 
breath, "Well, I should say ! Well, I should say !" As for Maria Jenkyn, 
the deep blushes surged over her little face and high on the smooth, low 
forehead, and she stepped back, with eyes downcast, and swept me a little 

"Mis' Rayes — Mis' Sarah Rayes, N' York," explained Miss Betty, 
wagging her head in my direction. 

That was my introduction to Maria Jenkyn. 


It was wonderful how Maria Jenkyn fitted into my life there in the 
stone farmhouse. She never asserted herself, and in general people who 
never assert themselves rankle horribly in my consciousness. Maria Jenkyn, 
however, was so gently forceful in her agreeing with one, that one did not 
miss being contradicted. Gentle, and mild, and sweet she was, but not 
weak. I grew to love her sweet, bent head with its brown hair drawn 
closely back ; I loved her low voice, her blushes, her innocence. 

A day or two after her return, Miss Betty, Maria Jenkyn and I were 
together in the kitchen. Maria was making pies, Miss Betty and I busy at 
dishwashing. Miss Betty was more than usually talkative. 

"There's Elder Monk down there in the south meadow," reported 
Miss Betty, glancing out as she passed the window on her way to the 
china closet. 

I looked out. Down in the hay field, just beyond Miss Betty's line 
fence, was a marvelously homely man. He was going over the rough 
ground with a hand rake to gather up the wisps of hay that had been left 
by the machine. It was a burning day, but the Elder wore a frock coat 
and a tall hat. His hat fell off whenever he leaned over to bind together 
the gathered wisps. The frock coat dangled and flapped about his knees in 
an absui'd fashion, and its sleeves served merely to drape his long, thin arms 
above the elbow. 

"What makes him wear those clothes for haying?" I asked. I had 
learned a good deal of farm lore during my two weeks at East William. 

"Pshaw !" said Miss Betty, scanning the awkward figure in great ex- 
citement. "Lands! Mari' Jenkyn! Elder Monk's out hayin' in the south 
meadow, an' he's got his Sunday clothes an' his tall hat on ! Mari' Jenkyn ! 
Mari' Jenkyn ! Good lands ! He's lookin' up here now ! " 

But Maria Jenkyn betrayed no curiosity ; she only attended a little 
more closely to putting the apples evenly into her pie. Perhaps she had 
seen the Elder before we did. 

" He's very ugly," said I. 

Maria Jenkyn did not look up. 

" Sh !" warned Miss Betty, mysteriously. We were silent for a little, 
and then Maria Jenkyn went out into the porch for a few more sour apples. 
Miss Betty began : — 


" You oughtern't' say nothin' 'gainst Elder Monk 'fore Mari' Jenkyn. 
He's a-comin' here mighty reg'lar to see her, an' I calc'late she's goin' to 
marry him. Now, I don't regard him none, but 'taint no use to say mortal 
word to her. Mari' Jenkyn's that obligin' an' inn'cent she'll take up with 
anybody that asks her to. Thad Monk's a well-to-do man, too, if he is near 
in his ways. The reason he's hayin' in that there rig is " 

Maria Jenkyn came in just then. She must have caught most of Miss 
Betty's words, for the door stood open. She said nothing, but a little 
crimson spot burned in each of her peachy cheeks. 

"But he is horribly homely ! " I asserted, moved by a sudden, instinc- 
tive hatred of the Elder. 

Maria Jenkyn rolled out her third pie crust with quiet perseverance and 
made no sign ; yet somehow I fancied she was grateful. 

The first week of August was terribly hot in East William. Even Miss 
Betty owned that such weather " pulled her down." One evening after the 
fifth of those fiery days I could not sit quietly in the porch with Miss Betty. 
I wandered restlessly up and down the garden and up and down the dusty 
road. It was already dusk, but Maria Jenkyn had not yet come back from 
the pasture, where she had gone to see how the spring was holding out. A 
sudden fancy seized me to go up to the pasture in the dark ; to feel the 
springy softness of the moss under my feet ; to brush through the blueberry 
bushes ; to hold crumpled sweet fern leaves in the palm of my hand ; to see 
the sleepy cows stumble to their feet at my coming ; to hear the frogs and 
crickets shrilling from the grass around the spring. I set off down the 
plank road without saying anything to Miss Betty : she would call it " tri- 
flin'" to go so far for no good reason. 

It was almost dark when I lowered the pasture bars. I could scarcely 
distinguish Miss Betty's Alderneys from the stumps and hillocks that dotted 
the field. I wandered idly on ; it was very hot down here in the hollow. 
"Take that back !" said Maria Jenkyn's tone from the darkness in front of me. 

I had nearly stumbled upon her. I stood still. I could not help hear- 

"You know it's so!" insisted a heavier voice. I recognized the sec- 
ond speaker as Gradman Luverts, the manly looking lad who kept the 
«' store" in East William. "You know it's so! Isn't it? I know 'tis!" 


" All right, Grad Luverts, if you think so ! I guess I won't say 'tisn't. 
But you needn't have troubled to come 'way up here to plague me, seems to 
me. I — I don't see no use in it ! " 

Maria Jenkyn was roused ! Evidently there was something serious on 
foot. I turned to flee, feeling guilty to have heard so much ; hut Grad- 
man Luverts forestalled my flight. He strode by me at headlong speed. I 
stepped aside to let him pass. Then I stole cautiously away toward the 
bars, with the sound of stifled sobbing in my ears. At the bars I turned 
again, and stole over to the edge of the woods, and sat down with my hands 
pressed over my ears ; for at the bars stood Gradman Luverts, waiting. 
After a long time I climbed the fence and hurried home across the fields. 
I went into the kitchen, where a light was burning. 

Miss Betty was not there. Elder Monk sat in one of the wooden 
chairs, sweltering in that same frock coat which he had worn a-haying. He 
fidgeted with his hat. His head, with its sparse fringe of light hair, shone 
in the lamplight; the heat had made him paler instead of red. Maria Jen- 
kyn stood by the table mixing bread. She looked a little tired, but her 
sweet, childlike calm was unchanged. Had she gone through the bars, or 
had she too come home " cross lots?" I wondered. 

When, in the next summer, I visited East William again, I turned at 
once down the plank road toward Miss Betty's farm. Miss Betty spied 
me from her sitting-room window, and was standing at the gate to greet me 
when I came up. She wore one of the same green calico dresses. She was 
still knitting. She looked severely at me over her spectacles. 

" Umph ! Got back, are ye? Glad to see ye're not so peaked as ye 
might be." 

This from Miss Betty Asher was almost fulsome praise. I wondered, 
dumbly, at her state of mind. 

I thanked her as best I could ; compliments from Miss Betty were hard 
to meet. Resting my bag on the stone wall, I began to talk, — to ask about 
the neighbors, the crops, the strawberry bed. It would have been contrary 
to East William etiquette to seem eager to enter before one was invited. 

" Better stop. Come in, now, do ! " urged Miss Betty suddenly in the 
midst of her talk. She seized my bag and marched before me up the path. 
Her green calico skirt was very limp, but as she strode along its folds 


switched and swung jauntily ; there was a mixture of pertness and arrogance 
noticeable also about her elbows. When she turned to face me, at the door- 
stone, the good woman was bristling with self-assertion at every angle. 

"And Maria Jenkyn?" I asked. "Surely she hasn't left you?" 
This was a pleasantry on my part. 

" She has ! " asserted Miss Betty, solemnly. 

I could only stare blankly at her. The woman's radiant importance 
was bewildering. 

"She has that! She has, that very thing ! " reiterated Miss Asher, 
from the doorstep, gesticulating stiffly with my bag held at arm's length. 

" Dear me ! " said I. It seemed most appropriate, at the moment, to 
call upon the one thing in the universe of which I felt sure. 

" He had the house all did up new, an' it's done more'n a week, 
now. An' Monday he come an' took her." 

"Took her?" I echoed, in bewilderment. 

" Certain. Yes. Took her — got married to her an' took her. They 
be goin' on a trip this mortal minute ! " 

I looked at Miss Betty. Her thin, wrinkled, practical face flushed. 

"Miss Betty, you don't mean to tell me Maria Jenkyn has gone and 
married that Elder Monk?" 

" I don't mean to tell ye nothin' o' the kind !" cried Miss Betty, with 
shrill emphasis. " I mean to tell ye Maria Jenkyn ain't goin' to have nothin' 
to do with Thad Monk, 'less'n her husband dies, — an' that ain't powerful 
likely, he bein' a healthy man, — an', like's not, she wouldn't even if he did." 

My hostess looked down upon me with the fire of scorn and triumph 
in her eye. 

"Not any Thad Monk, — no, sir, though folks said so. I alius did say 
Maria Jenkyn wouldn't have Thad Monk, elder or no elder. An' you alius 
did use to say Thad Monk made ye think o' smoked string beef; an' I guess 
mebby it's so ! " 

"Indeed he does !" I answered eagerly. This dear imagination dated 
back to the time of my first sight of Elder Thaddeus Monk, in the hay field. 

"I alius knowed Maria Jenkyn wouldn't have nothin' to say to him," 
Miss Betty repeated, confidently. "Come on in, an' set down! Mercy 
days ! Lemme take yer bunnit. Be ye a-lookin' fur a place to stay ? " 


I owned that I was looking for such a place, and Miss Betty said that 
she "guessed she was goin' to be some lonesome, now Mari' Jenkyn's 
gone, an' wouldn't I like to come an' stop with her, like's I did last year?" 
I answered that I should be delighted to keep her company. Thereupon, 
this matter being settled, Miss Betty launched upon a long and careful 
description of the wedding, the supper, the guests, the bride's dress, and 
what all East William had said afterwards. Only once, while we were 
" clearin' up the tea," did I try to turn the current of talk to another side 
of the subject. 

"But the groom, — the man, Miss Betty? You don't tell anything 
about him." 

" Oh, I guess there ain't much to be said 'bout him. He jus' stood roun', 
an' looked kinder no 'count an' useless," returned Miss Betty, with a sniff. 
" I^ut Mari' Jenkyn, she jus' was a sight ! All pink an' glad, kinder, with 
a lemon blow an' two buds in her hair. Miss Nipper brought them blows, 
an' she raised 'em herself, sos't we knowed they was fresh. Miss Nipper, 
she says to me — " 

" But, Miss Betty, who was the man?" 

Miss Betty looked at me in scorn for a moment. 

"It couldn't a' been nobody else," she said, with decision. "Folks 
did say Elder Monk was goin' to have a chance, but I never held with that 
notion. I knowed soon's ever I set eyes on Thad Monk comin' sparkin' 
'round here, with his han's, an' his bald head, an' his manners, — I knowed 
Thad Monk hadn't no chance. It couldn't never have been anybody but 
Grad Luverts." 

All at once I thought of that little scene up in the pasture, in the 
warm August dusk, — the tall young figure that strode hotly away, but 
waited by the bars ; the girl crouched, crying, in the fern, sobbing as if her 
heart would break ! No, it never could have been anybody but Grad 

"Miss Betty?" said I, coming back to the kitchen for my bedroom 

candle just as Miss Asher was raking the ashes over the fire on the hearth. 

" Yes," snapped Miss Betty. She was not used to talking so much of 


"How did Maria Jenkyn ever come to accept Gradman Luverts, do 
you suppose ? " 

Miss Betty smiled sleepily ; she had her answer already made. 

"Laws!" she said, "she didn't — never. Mari' Jenkyn's that obligin' 
an' innocent she'd just marry anybody that ast her to. She just didn't 
know no better." 

It was then, after all, a case of Maria Jenkyn's innocency ? I wondered. 


All night within the dim cathedral choir 
He watched beside his armor: vigil kept 
With prayer and fasting, while his fellows slept ; 

And as the gray dawn touched the cross-capped spire 

There came to him a vision. Holy fire 
Of pure devotion up within him leapt, 
The song of service through his spirit swept, — 

God's accolade bestowed on lowly squire. 

When the sun shone across the world's new day 

They found him at the altar. Not a trace 

Of struggle on the fair uplifted face; 

And as they bore him home they softly trod, 
With reverent feet, as those who go to pray. 

He died a squire. Arise, O knight of God ! 

Mary Hollands McLean. 


Tall, square, and glaringly white in the unshrinking sunlight, the old 
Spanish mission church stood out in the unbroken solitude of the sandy 
plain. Behind were the mountains, deep and blue, touching the brighter, 
less restful blue of the sky ; and in every direction the stretch of brown- 
white soil, relieved, at a sufficiently respectful distance from the church, by 
adobe huts and wagon roads. In the black shadow thrown from one of the 
two square towers which fronted the building and guarded the entrance, 
stood a sleepy burro, burdened with two pack-baskets. Under the arched 
doorway the owner of the burro, in the inevitable shawl drapery of her 
class, entered the church, her dull-marked outline losing itself quickly and 
smoothly in the dimness of the interior. 


Within, where the light flittered down from the narrow windows near 
the roof, where the air was cool like the stones of the floor, or like the wind 
which jars the top of the broad towers, the dark figure became plain again 
to the few scattered kneelers who watched it. An old Indian woman, who 
had just arisen, paused in the act of adjusting her basket to her patient 
shoulders ; for the gait of the woman passing was very light and graceful- 
The priest, who was covering the Christus on its bier at the altar, noticed 
her, and muttered savagely to himself. The two observers, as well as she, 
had been in the wine-garden the night before ; but they did not, like her, 
" confess" this morning. Their sins were light in their eyes, because their 
pleasures had been shallow. Their part of the fete had been only to follow 
the children as they ran from harp and violin to the horn band, when one 
or the other of these had played the louder, and then companionless and 
passive in the crowd, to spend their bits of copper for wine and sweets. But 
she, — yes, she ought to visit the confessional. She had been one of the actors 
in the bit of life drama. The lights of the paper lanterns, where she had sat 
under the trees, had danced so blithely over the gay kerchief and the bright 
ornaments in her hair, and had shone into the soft, dark eyes so witchingly, 
that many a one, even such as the old squaw and the priest, long remembered 
the picture. More than that, a certain blue-coated cavalryman from over 
the border had sauntered in with old Juan, her father ; had stopped to see, 
and stayed to listen, till the spell had grown stronger than his will, and the 
time for his riding away had slipped by. Old Juan had taken him home, for 
so good a customer of his broad saddles was not to be lost through inhospi- 
tality. The girl had said not a word of invitation, but she knew that he 
would come again if there were neither saddles nor horses. 

As she walked to the curtained recess, determining which should be 
called cardinal, which lesser sins, the fascination of the night came back to 
her. Perhaps it was the delight of the recollection which made the con- 
fession short, and hurried her out into the sunshine again. She knew that 
the way home would lead through the streets of the town, and there was a 
chance that the troops had not gone. 

The walk into the town was hot, but not long. Beyond the bare road, 
the plaza with its fountain was shaded and cool, and as she drew near, she 
noticed gladly a sprinkling of blue coats mixed in with the duller coloring of 


the Indian and Mexican market crowd. But the movement of the indolent 
plaza, quicker than usual, alarmed her. At one end the men were gathering 
together, leaving the women scattered about under the awnings. In the 
middle of the crowd a horse and rider moved restlessly about in the narrow 
space, as if trying to force a way out. Instantly she knew the face under 
the broad sombrero and stopped helplessly, feeling dizzy in the hot light. 
A moment later, one of the group of soldiers stepped forward and seized the 
bridle. " Senor Captain!" she heard one of the women say. The crowd 
was coming toward her, and against her will she looked up. The rider's 
face did not change as he saw her; 'the wine-garden, for him, was done with 

The priest who had covered the Christus pointed out the heavy bags of 
the new saddle, and explained eagerly to the crowd the penalties of smug- 
gling. Before his busy eyes and fingers could turn upon her, the girl in the 
shawl glided away. 

When the stars came out that night above the white church, the grace- 
ful figure again passed into the sheltering darkness of the doorway, but that 
time not for confession. 

Joanna Parker, '96. 


It was the last night of a long and wonderfully happy summer. The 
faintest breeze possible moved stealthily through the August air, and whis- 
pered to the leaves of the yellow corn, which in turn nodded approvingly at 
the pair that strolled slowly down the long garden path ; and only the breeze 
and the corn heard a strong voice ask abruptly, "Helen, must you really 
go?" and the bright moon showed a dark head turned quickly upward, a 
pair of black eyes provokingly merry, and the breeze and the corn heard a 
laughing reply : " Do you think I want to stay in a little town all my life? 
Yes, Fred, I really must go. If I can't be a boy and go to college, why, 
then I'll or> as a girl." 

" But, Helen," pleadingly, "it's been such a jolly summer, and four 
years are so long ! " 


They had reached the stile ; they had crossed the garden fence, and 
had entered the clump of willows that spread their boughs far out over the 
quiet water. Once the breeze, ever curious, moved the overhanging boughs 
gently aside, and the moon showed some rough stone steps leading down to' 
the edge of the water, and a boat chained to the roots of the willows. Once 
again the wind played spy, and the moon showed the boat occupied, but 
still chained to the roots, and two dark heads bent intently over something. 

Long, long they waited, the curious wind, the golden corn, and the 
sympathetic old southern moon, and then the moon saw white fragments, 
bits of torn paper, float out from under the willows and away down the 
stream ; the wind heard a deep sigh, and an almost inaudible sob ; and the 
corn nodded wonderingly at the pair that walked hurriedly up the garden 

The summer is long past. Helen is almost a college graduate, but 
somewhere among the theses and the long and learned papers lies a tiny 
note wherein is written in a strong hand : — 

" I am going to be married in the summer, Helen, to the dearest little 
girl the world over. She has wonderful blue eyes, and the most provok- 
ingly curly hair. She doesn't care for college, but I want you to know her. 
. . . Did you know we forgot to take the oars that night we went rowing 
in L?" 

Agnes L. Caldwell, '96. 


The flowers are singing their babies to sleep 

In the garden wide fringing the meadow, 
And the proud mother roses a close vigil keep 

O'er the leaf cradles hidden in shadow. 

But the rose lullaby has no comforting sound, 

And the night scorns her sorrowing sister; 
For my beautiful rose had bequeathed a thorn wound 

When I bowed to my idol and kissed her. 

Pale with their shyness, then eager with love, 

Flush the tremulous blooms of hydrangea ; 
And the little flowers whisper, low swaying above, 

"She is lonely and sad, and a stranger." 


They are tearing their soft-folded petals apart 

With their tiny, unfaltering fingers, 
Boldly robbing the shrine of each slumbering heart, 

Till nothing but loveliness lingers. 

And their treasure, their hearts' dew, is touching the wrong 

With an infinite pity and healing, 
While their message, pure-petaled, God-centered, and strong, 

A vision of Life is revealing. 

Florence Annette Wing, '92. 


What a stranger thinks of Paris depends entirely upon his point of 
view. If he is an art student, threading the narrow streets of the Latin 
Quarter, dear now to Trilby lovers, he will consider it as the center of mod- 
ern art, where one is privileged to study with Bouguereau, Constant, Fleury, 
Ferrier, and other noted artists, and where one experiences the checkered 
delights of studio life, with its ambitions, and jealousies, and competitions, and 
always the possibility of exhibiting in the Salon as a bright inspiration. 
For the student in music, also, is Paris a center, with the famous Madame 
Marchese, Bouley, and Sbriglia as teachers and a debut at the Opera as some- 
thing for which one ardently longs and earnestly labors. The man of the 
world away from home for rest and a good time, usually looks at Paris as a 
paradise of cafes, theaters, and variety shows. The person who holds Pur- 
itanic views on Sabbath keeping and other questions of morality would re- 
gard it rather as the City of Destruction, and would shake his head in wonder 
and dismay as he is wakened Sunday morning by the noise of hammers, or 
sees in the afternoon the line of splendid carriages filled with the wealth 
and nobility of Paris, sweeping along the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne en 
route for the Grand Prix races. To many fashionable women, Paris is 
merely an aggregation of fine shops, dressmakers, and modistes ; while to 
the Cook's tourists, whose name is legion, the city is a wearisome con- 
glomeration of churches, galleries, parks and palaces, all with most unpro- 
nounceable names, and all to " be done in five days, including the drive to Ver- 
sailles." Not having seen Paris from any one of these standpoints, though 
each is important in its way and might prove interesting if worked out in 


detail, I will merely give you a few of the passing glimpses and thoughts 
which used to come to me as I viewed the beautiful city from a point I 
dearly loved — the top of an omnibus. 

Looking from that coign of vantage, as the omnibus rumbles slowly 
down the Champs Ely sees, one sees as a background to the picture the mo- 
notonous rows of apartment houses, built of light yellowish stone, with little 
ornamentation, and with nothing to break the smoothness of their fronts save 
an ugly iron balcony on the second story and another on the fifth or sixth. 
The Parisians evidently believe that the exercise of climbing stairs is bene- 
ficial, for they have few elevators. One French teacher told me that in 
going to her pupils she often climbed forty flights of stairs a day, and she 
would not use an elevator even when she could, she feared and disliked 
them so much. Apropos of this custom of living high, there is a slang 
phrase used of a Parisian's death which seems to me more expressive than 
our similar one of " He has kicked the bucket." They say " He has let go 
of the banister " — il a lachi la rampe. 

Bringing our eyes down from the lofty houses, we notice the double 
rows of chestnut trees on both sides of the street, so carefully trimmed that 
each tree is exactly like its neighbor, the individuality that it might once have 
possessed being entirely lost. It is the same thing at Versailles and in the 
parks, — the perfection of art rather than of nature, and one wishes just a 
little sometimes that the French eye were not quite so true, and that the de- 
sire for symmetry did not go quite so far. One symmetrical arrangement, 
however, always gave me the greatest pleasure and satisfaction, and that 
was the view through the small arch of the Carrousel in the Garden of the 
Tuileries past the needlelike obelisk in the Place de la Concorde, straight 
through the grand Arch of Triumph, as it stood outlined against the sky at 
the head of the Champs Elysees, more than a mile away. 

But to come back once more to our omnibus ride. If it is a brisrht 
day the streets will be full of people, for the French revel in sunshine and 
in out-of-door life. Paris itself seems a child of sunshine. There is such 
an air of brightness, of leisure, of gayety, of continual Fourth-of-July-ness 
about the city that one wonders if the dark corners really do exist, and if 
there really are Parisians who are struggling for bread, and living in unhap- 
piness and misery. As we watch the crowds moving slowly up and down 


the Champs Elysees, we notice a picturesqueness about the people quite 
foreign to our streets. Now it is a gallant soldier who passes, his sword at 
his belt; now a nurse in circular cape, the broad ribbons of her cap stream- 
ing out in the breeze ; now a baker's boy in white cap and linen suit ; now a 
priest or a sister, often leading a procession of school boys or girls all 
dressed alike in some kind of uniform, and out for their half holiday perhaps ; 
or now we see the gayly dressed French women, who love bright colors as 
they love the sunshine, and whose hats are the most gorgeous concoctions 
of cherry and violet, royal blue and grass green, that can be imagined. They 
have a style all their own, but whether superior to ours or not, is not for a 
prejudiced American to decide. 

After ten minutes' ride down the Champs Elysees we come to the 
Rond Point, a sort of park haunted always by nurses and their charges, and 
where gingerbread stands and Punch and Judy shows also abound. Near 
here are some of the famous cafes chantants of Paris, whose brilliant incan- 
descent lights, arranged in fanciful ways, are most attractive and give a fairy- 
like appearance to the garden in the evening. On the right we see the 
Palais de l'lndustrie, built for the Exposition in 1857, and where the Salon 
is held now each year, as well as various other exhibitions. There is talk 
at present of tearing down the building and of putting through a new ave- 
nue before the Exposition of 1900, but many of the conservative Frenchmen 
dislike to part with what has now grown to be a landmark. And then 
comes the Place de la Concorde, the largest, finest square in the world, the 
old obelisk in the center, and around it the eight statues of seated female fig- 
ures representing the eight largest cities of France. Poor Strassburg is 
always draped in mourning, and once a year a funeral service is held over 
her and new mourning put on. This shows the French love of the dra- 
matic, as well as their sorrow for the loss of Alsace and Lorraine. How 
they do hate the Prussians, and how they still quiver with anger at the in- 
dignities they were obliged to suffer ! It is said that after the surrender in 
1870, the Prussians, wishing to humiliate the French as much as possible, 
marched through Paris as through a conquered city, coming in by the Porte 
Maillot, along the Avenue de la Grande Armee to the Arc de Triomphe, 
under which they passed, and then down the Champs Elysees to the Place de 
la Concorde. If they expected to be greeted by crowds of angry or sorrow- 


ing people, they were disappointed, for not a soul was in sight. All win- 
dow shutters were closed, and the city was shrouded in the deepest mourn- 
ing. Not until they reached the Place de la Concorde did they see a single 
person ; but there, a woman, alas ! with the proverbial curiosity of her sex, 
gazed upon the lines of victorious soldiers. She was well punished for it 
afterwards, however, by the indignant citizens. But this disgrace to their 
much-loved arch is something the French have never forgotten; and though 
it had formerly been the custom to drive under it on the way to the Bois, 
from that time forth a railing kept out carriages, and no really patriotic 
Frenchman of the old days can ever bring himself to pass beneath its lofty 

From the Place de la Concorde we may pass down Rue de Rivoli, with 
the Tuileries Gardens and the massive pile of the Louvre on the right, and 
the arcaded row of shops on the left. I always liked to read the names 
on the shop windows, and often wondered why any one should have be- 
stowed upon his place of business such a peculiar appellation as " Aux 
doigts de la Fee," or " Au bon diable." One could understand that " Au 
bebe incassable " was an appropriate title for a doll store, but why a clothing 
store should be named " A Penfant Jesus" was something inexplicable. 

These little shops, like all others in Paris, display their wares in the 
most attractive manner ; and it is surprising how even a butcher's shop may 
be made inviting by the exercise of the most scrupulous neatness and by a 
tasteful arrangement. The roasts are always encircled with lace paper, and 
the whole animals hanging in the doorway have each a little boutonniere 
sticking in its tail. Fruits and vegetables are garnished with ferns ; oysters 
are placed in square covered baskets with fir boughs around them, so that, 
as my friend used to say, one might imagine they came out of the woods. 
Coal dealers, wishing to have some window decoration, exhibit samples of 
their stock in glass preserve dishes. Of course the large stores, like the 
Louvre and the Bon Marche, have always the finest possible displays in all 
lines of dry goods. But the windows of the jewelry shops, the pastry 
shops, and, above all, the florists, appealed most to me. I never before 
saw so lovely flowers ; and the flowers were made doubty beautiful by their 
arrangement in graceful baskets, tied with knots of ribbon in contrasting 
colors. The shops were dreams of beauty. It is worth while for the 


French to make their windows as pretty as possible, for they are always 
appreciated. No Frenchman is too intent on business to stop for a look at 
whatever interests him, and he is as ready as a child to be amused. 
One recognizes very soon that not money, but pleasure, is his object in life. 
If instead of going down Rue de Rivoli we should change omnibuses at the 
foot of the Champs Elysees, we might go along Rue Royale toward the 
Madeleine, and then down the fascinating boulevards, where the shops are 
the finest, the cafes the most fashionable, the variety entertainments the 
most numerous, and the cockers the most reckless. Those wicked cockers! 
with their red faces and their shiny hats, which seem to be made in one size 
only ; for if a man's head is large his hat rests lightly on the very top, 
while if small, it falls down over his eyes, but seldom is one a perfect fit. 
What tales might be told of their total depravity, their entire lack of con- 
science in dealing with foreigners, their abuse of the poor, skeletonlike 
horses, and their general disregard of the life and safety of the public when 
they come whizzing around corners with a blood-curdling yell of warning 
for any unfortunate just then crossing the street. And yet there is a word 
to be said on their side, for they must work night and day, and even then 
earn the merest pittance, most of the fares going to the rich companies who 
own the carriages and horses — another of the evils of monopoly. 

I shall never forget how these boulevards looked on Mardi-Gras and 
Mi-Careme. All trams and omnibuses, and nearly all the cabs, were 
obliged to go on side streets, and the avenues and boulevards were given up 
to the pleasure of the populace. One could hardly imagine such a thing 
as happening in New York or Chicago. That the chief business streets, sa- 
cred to the occupation of money getting, should even for a day be devoted 
to apparently nonsensical games and masquerades, would be something un- 
precedented, — which also goes to show how widely our aims and those of 
the French differ. 

Crowds of people filled both pavement and street, and such a good- 
natured, jolly crowd ! How they pelted each other with confetti, till the 
streets were ankle-deep with it ; and sometimes the bits of bright paper 
flew so thick and fast that they looked like a miniature snow squall colored 
by a rainbow. The wealthy, driving along in their carriages, gave and 
received their share as well as the ragged street urchins ; old graybeards and 


young children joined in the sport with equal zest, and no one was cross, 
not even if a handful of confetti flew into a mouth just then conveniently 
open. Little dusters of paper were sold on every corner, and were a 
great necessity. From upper windows people threw rolls of bright-colored 
paper called serpentine, and this literally covered the trees, making them 
present the strangest appearance. There were many masques and absurd 
costumes on Mardi-Gras, but the most interesting feature was to see the 
children in fancy dress. Boys of eight or ten were attired as soldiers, or in 
court suits as pages or princes, while the little girls were dressed as 
bonnes, or peasants, or in costumes of the olden time. 

It was very pretty to see their important air, as they walked the streets, 
" the observed of all observers." The principal attraction on Mi-Careme 
was the procession of the blanchisseuses. The queen, who was chosen for 
her beauty, was dressed in a white satin dress with mantle of cloth of gold, 
and rode in a gilded car seated on a high throne. Other cars followed 
filled with representatives from the different laundries, all looking their 
very prettiest. The cars had rather a Christmas-ey effect, being decorated 
with green boughs, flowers, and flags. The students played the funny part 
in the procession, and had jokes on the schools of law, medicine, and art, 
and on the Academie Francaise, which I appreciated better after an expla- 
nation. The whole affair was most interesting to one unaccustomed to such 
gay doings in more serious and staid America. 

By this time I am sure that our omnibus has reached its destination, 
and we must needs obey the voice of the conductor, when he shouts, " De- 
scendez, descendez," and clamber as gracefully as possible down the narrow, 
winding stair, to make our way once more in the busy streets, leaving with 
regret our vantage ground — the top of the omnibus. 


When soft the violet mists o'er Waban steal, 

'Tis then I love to glide across her breast 

Watching the twilight quiver in the west; 
Or drift among her shadows till I feel 
Their velvet fingers clasp my dripping keel, 

Luring me into chambers of deep rest. 

Nancy K. Fostek. 



These are five pages from her diary. When they found her dead, the 
canvas of her mother's picture, cut into long narrow strips and piled one on 
top the other, lay within reach of her hand. 

August 22, 1874. — Is there such a thing as absolute truth ? Is there 
any moment in which one may say, " I have found the truth and am satis- 
fied ? " Even if the satisfaction were only for some particular moment, is 
there any such a thing as that particular moment? One moment you say 
that is truth ; another, this ; no time are they the same. Ought you then to 
harbor truths tentatively, as only possible truths, and thus live provision- 
ally? Always this eternal self-questioning, continual searching, never sure 
of any one thing, certainly never of yourself; a mere parasite living on 
sturdier forms of our social organism — does the search for truth pay? 

Any moment I could go back to the belief of my childhood, shut my 
eyes, kill my doubts, talk with the everyday world of life, death, soul, 
glibly, smoothly, conventionally ; consign with equanimity my baker to 
eternal destruction since he works on Sunday and sends his apprentices 
to cock fights in the evening. I, too, could become a useful member of 
society, another cast-iron mould for custom. But, if I were one of you, I 
would work as you do ; work until it becomes automatic, rather than to let 
one moment find me idle enough to hear it when it asks, " Yes ; but this one 
point, how do you account for that?" There is such a little space, a pretty 
garden, in which my thoughts may wander at will, where they never 
disturb me. Beyond lies nothing of value, so I am told. Once I believed 
it. Now, I wonder if beyond the garden, beyond the blackness and the 
unanswered questions lies a something worth all the peace of the garden 
and all the doubts. I don't know as I believe it after all. Perhaps there is 
only the garden. 

May 15, 1883. — What insane trash a woman can write when she is 
tired. I have never dared to look at these pages. Long ago I sealed them 
up, locked fast together. Disgusting folly, to put one's soul on paper ! 

To-day I finished my monograph on Buddhism. I can scarcely bear 
to let the pages go out from under my hand. To-morrow the printer takes 


them, next week the first copy comes from press. It has been a fascinating 
work, this study of the growth of Asiatic thought in its conceptions of indi- 
vidual duty and perfection. I was wondering last night what started me on 
it. I can see myself now, writing by the south window in the attic long 
after I could see the marks my pen made on the paper, or else comparing 
the old editions of Hindoo history, brown-leathered, dusty, quaint, with the 
new, always with that dogged persistence, that disregard of others' wonder, 
that half-unconsciousness of my own earnestness, that never led me to con- 
sider the why of my work. 

But last night when the work was done I had a spare moment to think 
of the " why." I don't remember as I found an answer, unless it was that 
"blood will tell." My mother was a Hindoo of the Buddhist faith, though 
that was years ago before she came to sit at the prosaic breakfast table 
of an English merchant. She died when I was a child, leaving me faint 
memories of her beauty, her sadness, and her passionate caresses. There 
is a large painting of her over my study fireplace. Occasionally, as a girl, 
I used to study the setness of her eyes and mouth, until I found in it that 
which made me long for my nurse and candles at a winter's twilight. Now, 
although I found in it an inspiration to quaint conceits and steadfastness of 
will, it still possesses for me that impression of duality which I never found 
in any other picture. Possibly that second woman which I saw beneath the 
paint, and which I feared when a child, stood for the Hindoo race, with 
their proverbial cunning and mocking spirit. At any rate, by turns I love 
and hate the painted canvas as I find in it the mother of my memory or the 
" other woman." 

I wonder now what I shall do when my monograph comes from the 
press. It seems strange to have nothing on hand. Perhaps a comparison of 
Buddhism and Christianity would be valuable. There are certain points in 
which they are very much alike, especially in their conception of the influence 
every man possesses over that of some future generation. 

One of their odd characteristics is their belief in the transmigration of 
soul by which the spirit prepares for its final absorption into the infinite 
through a long purifying series of animal existences. For each sin the soul 
sinks lower and lower in the animal scale, and the final completion represents 
an infinite number of risings and fallings, progressions and retrogressions. 


It is hard to treat this phase of the subject seriously, to regard it 
sympathetically. It seems more of an allegory than a religion. It is 
especially marvelous when you consider that a whole nation has fashioned 
its life after those precepts, though they never could have seriously believed 

May 17. — Last night I was alone in my study. It was dark, cold, 
dreary. Above the mantelpiece the face of the " other woman " looked at 
me with that uncanny smile I was slowly growing to loathe. There was 
the same mocking air, half beast, half human. I grew nervous and reckless. 
I could not keep my eyes from her face. Even when I turned my chair back 
to her and read, I could still see her eyes over the page before me. I wanted 
to slash at her face with my knife, cut out her mouth, do anything to hurt 
her, anything. I even started up recklessly to do something, when a sudden 
gust of wind down the fireplace scattered a suffocating odor of dust and 
charcoal through the room, and then . 

I was out beneath the sky. There were stars overhead, I remember. 
About me were gray crags, thick and shadowy, enclosing within them 
suggestive outlines of twisted shimbs of desert wastes. Far down below me 
came the faint roar of mountain stream, tumbling, tossing over precipice after 
precipice, until it lost itself, a gleam of quiet silver, off" in the plains. Way 
to the west the irregular twinkle of light marked tower, and wall, and house- 
top of some fortified city. But everywhere there was a suggestion that the 
city barred itself against the massive desolation of the crags, that the torrent 
fled from its loneliness ; that while there life began, for completion it hurried 
to wider stretches, broader and more secure. About was a heavy atmosphere 
full of superstitious, intoxicating fancies, that to half mankind mean a fear that 
is a delight. 

From behind the rock into which the narrow path at my feet seemed to 
lose itself, came the faint tinkle of bells keeping time to the regular, yet slow 
and cautious, step of a dromedary. 

" Courage, star of the north," said the bent form leading him. " Cour- 
age ; I see the city walls. In two short hours all will be well." 

The beast sniffed the air uneasily ; each step came more slowly. At last 
it stopped. The man looked up anxiously. There was no hint of any life 
around him, except those mysterious sounds which the earth makes at night 


when she talks to the sky, but the man waited breathlessly. I could see his 
face in the moonlight, drawn, with his eyes narrowed to tiny holes that seemed 
even to hear. And then I saw a yellow body shoot over the crest and hurl 
itself with a perfect aim full at his breast. Over and over the two rolled on 
the narrow path. Once the man raised himself enough to strike at the yellow, 
twisting thing at his throat. He never struck again. The blood ran thick 
and warm down the cliff. The beast grew satisfied, and stopped. Then I 
knew that it, that savage, yellow body without reason, only instincts, was 

My monograph came to-night. The last copy is burning now on the 
hearth. And my harmless, little garden ! I have forgotten even where it is. 

Elva Hulburd Young, '96. 


We were in Sturm's Leipsic room, Sturm and I, two jolly, world-tossed 
old fellows of sixty, renewing with surprising eagerness the friendship of 
thirty odd years ago, when, at Goethe's Alma Mater yonder, we had shared 
our budding enthusiasm over Kant, or hotly disputed the rival systems of 
Hegel and Schopenhauer. 

Our reminiscences were cut short by some very bad playing upon the 
organ of a neighboring chapel. Unmusical as I was, I felt my hair stand on 

" What, in God's name, Sturm ," I began. 

"That," cried Sturm, fairly quivering, "that is the first melody of 
Chopin's Eleventh Nocturne. You would never recognize it, would you? 
The player is a girl, of course," he continued, closing the window, "an 
American girl, and would-be pupil of mine. It was hard getting rid of her. 
Remarkable case, very." 

"They are strangely persistent," I replied, as certain memories came 
to me. 


" This one is not only persistent, but crazy," said Sturm; " on music, 
I mean. On other subjects she is sane enough. She is really brilliant in 
some respects. But she cannot strike a harmonic chord to save her life." 

" Where are her family?" I inquired. 
She has only a grand uncle, who is now in Europe." 

I started. 

" Did you tell me her name, Sturm? " 
Ethel de Rochemont." 

Ethel de Rochemont," I repeated. " What sort is she?" 
Dark, quite. The French type," returned Sturm. 

• ' And she is from " 

Buffalo ; your home," he answered. "Do you know her, Townsend?'' 
She is my grand niece," I replied, " and has lived with me since the 
death of her parents several years ago. She was always fond of sacred 
music, and, on her return from boarding school, wished to study organ 
abroad. I sternly refused permission, and she went crazy over it, poor 
child. But as I knew her to be perfectly sane upon all other topics, I felt 
no hesitation in leaving her for the summer. Of course, she escaped then. 
Who could blame her ? " 

" Was she a brilliant player before this malady came?" inquired Sturm. 

" I cannot say. I have never heard her," I answered. " I only know 
that she has lost all power to make harmony, although she is constantly 
attempting it, and can appreciate it in the execution of others." 

" Her love for music is inherited?" asked Sturm. 

" From her father. Her mother was not musical. A most unfortunate 
passion in Ethel's case. A taste for metaphysics I might have understood 
and directed, but this " 

Sturm had been thinking while I spoke. 

"You bring back the old student days," he said. "Will you let me 
make an experiment? I think I can restore that lost sense of harmony. 
You are willing? Very well." 

" Will you see her?" he asked, as I took leave, a few moments later. 
" Shall we go to the chapel? " 

" No," I answered, " I don't wish to see her — yet." 

The following Monday, Sturm informed me that the necessary arrange- 


merits were completed, and that lie was ready to begin his experiment. Did 
I care to witness it? 

So, at four that afternoon, carefully hidden behind a curtain, I awaited 
the arrival of Sturm's pseudo-pupil. Presently she appeared. There could 
be no doubt that it was Ethel. That slight, erect figure, the pale face with 
its large, dark, wistful eyes, the coal-black, waving hair, and that vibrating, 
resonant voice were all so familiar to me. 

" Miss de Rochemont," began Sturm, " I am about to give you what I 
hope will be a not unpleasant surprise. I am going to play for you, instead 
of making you play for me." 

" Ah, how kind of you ! " cried Ethel, with a genuine pleasure incom- 
prehensible to me. "I had not expected anything so delightful. I shall 
enjoy listening very much, I am sure." 

" What music do you prefer? " 

" The Fifth Symphony, if you like," she answered. 

Without further speech, he seated himself at his organ and began to 
play. Ethel was evidently much affected. Her face worked convulsively, 
more from pure sensitiveness to the divine harmony, than from any actual 
restraint of tears. Indeed, the music was calculated to soothe, rather than 
to arouse emotion. 

Over and over, without ceasing, he played the selection, but neither 
listener became weary. At the end of an hour he dismissed his pupil. 

Four times a week Ethel came to Sturm's room beside the chapel, and 
listened for an hour to his playing. Beethoven's symphony was always the 
selection chosen. 

Finally, at her urgent request, he allowed her to attempt the music her- 
self. She eagerly began, but her mistakes were so many and so dreadful, 
that Sturm banished her from the instrument before she had finished a half 

The next day, he permitted her to try again. This time, he carefully 
corrected each error as she made it. She had absolutely no power of 
harmony. It was strange that a person so keenly responsive to excellence 
in the performance of others, should be so blind to the deficiencies in her 
own. I regarded Sturm's energy as praiseworthy, but as somewhat mis- 


Soon I noticed that Ethel's mistakes were gradually lessening in num- 
ber. At last came a day when she played the symphony without an error. 
Sturm wrote (I was at Nice then) to know if she might continue her studies 
with him, and, as an experiment, I consented. 

Sturm's letters became frequent now, and were full of his pupil's aston- 
ishing progress. I attributed most of his enthusiasm to German gush and a 
pardonable self-esteem ; still, when I returned to America, I despatched a 
little note to Ethel, giving her formal permission to study as much and as 
long as she pleased. 

Four years later she returned, bringing with her a half world-wide 
reputation as an organist. After the reconciliation scene was over, she took 
me to the church, and played in a way to draw the soul out of one's body. 
Her selection was Chopin's Eleventh Nocturne. 

"What will you do with your music, Ethel?" I asked, as she came 
down from the organ loft. 

" Try to please the world with it," she replied, adding mischievously, 
" if you will let me." 

"Let you!" I almost shouted, "as if I, or anyone, could stop you! 
Go back and tell Sturm that he has educated a genius. One who can play 
like that ." Ethel had taught me to love music. 

Blanche Louise Clay, '92. 

Thou evening star, pure and soft-shining light, 

Afar in depths of misty, violet sky, 

Thou'rt not more softly fair, nor pure, nor high 
Than is my love. Ye fragrant lilies white 
Whose perfume rare the wayward wind of night 

Reluctant bears to me with plaintive sigh, 

Ye' re not more fragrant where ye droop so shy, 
Than are her thoughts and maiden fancies bright. 
Whene'er I think of her so fragile fair, 

With a quick throb of pain a prayer I breathe 

That angels round her their white arms may wreathe 

To keep her safe from each insidious taint 
Of wickedness and every earthly snare, 

And bear her onward till she's crowned a saint. 

F. S., '97. 



Davie was a cripple. Perhaps you think he is going to play the part 
of a patient, saintly hero of a moral tale. By no means. Davie was not 
contented with his lot, and never for one moment pretended that he was. 
To be sure, he did not make life miserable for his widowed mother by in- 
cessant complaints ; but his own life was spoiled, and the thought was 
almost more than he could bear. Davie's father had been a soldier, and the 
only earthly thing that could ever satisfy the boy was to be a soldier too. 
Now that there was no hope of that, his chief delight was to watch pro- 
cessions. With every beat of the dram his spirits rose. The martial music 
thrilled his soul till he forgot his troubles, and fancied he was really the 
brave and active soldier he had hoped to be. Davie's passion for processions 
was well known ; and sometimes, when the line of mai*ch was not near his 
home, some thoughtful neighbor would wheel him to a place on the street 
corner. Davie's ear for music was remarkable. Ity music, I mean military 
music ; for no other kind could interest him. He had at home an old violin, 
which had been one of his father's treasures ; and on this he used to play all 
the marches he had ever heard, and these were many. 

One night he had a dream which he never forgot. He thought he was 
an officer, riding a prancing black horse at the head of a line of soldiers. It 
was the music, however, which impressed him most. The march he thought 
the band was playing stirred his very soul. It was a most inspiring bit of 
melody, and Davie kept hearing it again and again. The next day he 
labored for hours over the long-suffering violin, and at last he mastered his 
dream music. 

One day the rector came to see him. Mr. Adriance was a fatherly, 
sympathetic man, and Davie warmed toward him. He told all his troubles, 
his past hopes and present disappointments. Finally he told his dream, and 
timidly offered to play the imaginary music for his friend. Mr. Adriance 
listened with all the intentness of a music-loving nature. The boy played 
as if he were pouring out his soul with every note. All his courage, energy, 
and patriotism seemed to find expression there. There was silence for a 
minute after the music stopped. At last the rector said, "David, will you 
do me a favor?" 


' ' A favor, I — why, how, sir ? " 

" I have a violin over at the rectory. I don't play much, but I like to 
■* pick out things,' as you say. Now, if I bring my violin over here some 
night, will you teach me that music?" 

' ' Why, Mr. Adriance, do you mean that you want to learn my tune ? 
Do you like it?" 

"Very much, — so much that I want to be able to play it sometimes, 
when I am tired and discouraged. I think I can live better if I know your 

So it was settled. The rector came again and again. He not only 
learned the music, but more of Davie's pathetic story ; and this he told to 
officers of the city troops who were his friends. One day a procession came 
down the avenue near which Davie lived. On the corner the men came to 
a halt for an instant. The whole line stood motionless and silent. Then, 
with a sudden burst from the band, they swept around the corner, past the 
little brown house which was Davie's home. Never had red, white and blue 
waved more triumphantly ; never had soldiers marched with a more buoyant 
step ; never had horses held their heads more proudly ; for the band was 
playing Davie's march. 

Lydia Southard, '98. 




Possibly nothing in the student world is more thoroughly enjoyed at 
the present time than the new Public Library of Boston. It is true that the 
lover of books may so lose himself in the world of fact or fancy that he 
becomes unconscious of his surroundings ; but, nevertheless, there is a deep- 
felt sense of satisfaction in high, well-lighted rooms and the warm tints of 
Tennessee marble, which one does not find in low-studded ceilings or dim 
alcove retreat. Besides the construction features of the new building, the 
visitor finds much to interest and attract in the decoration of the walls. The 
interest in the Abbey pictures, the subject of much favorable and adverse 
criticism, has been largely transferred to the paintings of M. Puvis de Cha- 
vannes, which have recently been placed in the space assigned them. 

The decoration represents the Muses greeting the Genius of Enlighten- 
ment, who is the central figure resting upon a cloud, with extended wings 
and outstretched hands, from which rays of light seem to radiate. The nine 
Muses, five on the left and four on the right hand, appear to float through 
space toward the central figure. There are three grand planes of color in 
the picture : the green turf in the foreground, the deep blue sea stretching to 
the horizon, and the opaline sky, all blending into a harmony which throws 
the figures into full relief. One is not entirely unprepared for the style and 
treatment of Puvis de Chavannes, for examples of his work are to be found 
in the Art Museum. There is the same tone-color, though on a larger scale, 
the same technique of form, and the inevitable symbolistic manner of ex- 
pression. The peculiar tone-color of the middle distance fades into the green 
of the foreground and the clouds of the background with a skillful shade 
effect, and serves also as a most delicate setting for the figures of the Muses 
of Inspiration. The space proportions are admirably disposed to bring out 
the prominence of the central figure, and the ether itself, through which the 
Muses float upward to greet their divinity, seems to be drawn invisibly 
toward the central light. One notices the harmony of the painting with its 
appointments in the central hall. The warm coloring of the four marble 
pillars of the staircasing, in the spaces between which the painting seems 


included, as one moves away to look at it from a distance, brings into 
beautiful relief the colder tints of the painting, and seems to give it the 
setting one would have desired for it. The marble of the grand entrance to 
Bates Hall blends in a like harmony with the canvas that surrounds it. 

This, we are told, is but half the commission, and, if rumor says truly, 
we must wait for some time to come for "the perfect whole," since money 
is necessary, in this case, as in many others, for a full realization of the end 


Among the many privileges which have been granted of late to Wellesley 
students, not the least is the permission to attend the theater ; and that the 
girls appreciate this was shown by the large attendance of College girls at 
the Tremont Street Theatre during the past few weeks, where, with the num- 
berless others of the appreciative audience, they thrilled under the inspiration 
of Ellen Terry's and Henry Irving's acting. It would be hard to find a 
choicer or more carefully selected repertoire than that presented by this 
company. From the charm of a one-act drama such as Nance Oldfield to 
the power of Merchant of Venice or Faust, every play had not only literary 
and dramatic merit, but was fitted, as a rule, to bring out the ability of the 
different members of the company. The scenery, staging, costuming, and 
grouping were artistic to the highest degree, and presented a series of pic- 
tures perfect in color and perspective and full of action and life. Perhaps 
King Arthur, in which the costuming and grouping were designed by Burne- 
Jones, was the most remarkable in these respects, but certain other scenes 
were equally fine. The closing scene in Faust, where, after Faust and 
Mephistopheles have been hurled to the bottomless pit, Marguerite lies pale 
and repentant at the foot of the cross ; the trial scene in Merchant of Venice 
where, in the midst of the court room — gorgeous in its coloring, and filled 
with curious spectators, dignified judges, and the prisoner and his friend, 
there stands the bright, brave young figure of Portia in her legal attire, and 
at one side the cringing figure of the now expectant, now crushed Hebrew ; 
the impressive cathedral scene in Much Ado about Nothing, in which are 
shown amid the religious settings the revengeful anger of Claudeo, the de- 


spair of Hero, and the tender womanliness of Beatrice ; these are among the 
many scenes that cannot be surpassed nor forgotten. 

Too much cannot be -said in praise of the ability of Irving as a designer, 
manager, and director. As an actor, he admits of much more severe criti- 
cism. In the portrayal of characters which require a certain grim, abnormal 
tragedy and intensity of feeling, as Louis XI., Shylock, and Mephistopheles, 
he is at his best and interprets them with an almost savage strength. One 
of his finest parts is Shylock. He gives dignity to the character, presents 
him as justly resenting persecution, and moved rather by race feeling than 
personal prejudices, and Irving wins for him the sympathy of the audience. 
The very fact that Irving excels in portraying abnormal characters goes far 
toward proving Miss Terry's undisputed superiority as an artist, for she por- 
trays with exquisite grace and realism the natural phases of life which are 
quite beyond Irving. Even in some of his best interpretations, he occasion- 
ally treads close upon the heels of burlesque ; and his stagey manner, lack of 
spontaneity and personal charm, and his stiffness and inflexibility render him 
unable to present at all satisfactorily such characters as King Arthur and 
Benedict. A lame Benedict is startling, and Irving as a lover is so distress- 
ing that we wonder how he ever won the fair Beatrice. 

There is to-day no greater actor among English-speaking women than 
Ellen Terry. She is artistic to the most insignificant detail of the smallest 
piece of business. All her acting is marked by a personal charm and aban- 
don that carry on the drama and make her always the central figure. In 
comedy she has a delicacy of touch and a fineness of expression that are in- 
imitable, and in tragedy an intensity and controlled strength that give force 
and depth to her interpretations. She is unfortunately growing rather too 
stout for such parts as Portia and Beatrice, and some of her by-plays and 
pieces of business savor of the stagey ; but her wonderful genius for inter- 
preting character, her versatility and marvelous personal charm, will always 
keep her in the foremost rank of actors. 

The support, as a whole, is excellent. The beautiful Julia Arthur, 
who is able to stand out strongly even when Terry is on the stage, and 
Mr. Frank Cooper, deserve especial mention. Concerning Terry's daugh- 
ter, Ailsie Craig, there is nothing to be said, except that she is entirely 
unattractive and cannot act. 


Unless "the divine Sarah" visits the Hub this winter, it is probable 
that nothing equal to Irving and Terry will appear, for to see them is an 
education, not only in art and in literature, but in character study and life 


Probably no country has owed more to its. adopted sons than Amer- 
ica ; and of the many who have served her well, few have had a wider field 
of usefulness than the late Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen, linguist, critic, dram- 
atist, novelist, poet, and loyal citizen. His many-sided personality has 
been valuable both as a factor in the development of our intellectual life, 
and as testifying how far a foreigner, already arrived at manhood, can merge 
himself in the national life, thought, and language of a new country. 

Forty-eight years ago Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen was born at Fredrics- 
vaern, in southern Norway. Few writers show more directly than he the 
influence of early surroundings. His childhood was passed on the shores 
of the Sogenfiord, a region of poetic tradition, and the scene of the Frith- 
joff Saga. The delicate pictures of Scandinavian scenery, and the spirit 
of the joy and fullness of life which characterize his best work, are clearly 
the results of a happy childhood in the most beautiful part of a picturesque 
country. When the hunting and fishing of the day were over, he would 
steal into the servants' hall to listen to the folk stories of the peasants. 
As has been the case with many another writer, these ancient tales were 
the inspiration of most of his later romances. 

His poetic ability developed early. In his boyish attempts his grand- 
mother was his one sympathetic critic, for his father discouraged his ambi- 
tion, on the ground that literary work, to be of lasting value, should be in 
a tongue more cosmopolitan than the Norse. Fortunately, young Boyesen 
had that gift of Northern races, linguistic talent, and, nothing daunted, he 
set out, after his graduation from the University of Norway, to learn the 
customs and lanjniag-e of America. For a time he edited a Scandinavian 
journal in Chicago. Next he became tutor of Greek and Latin in a small 
Ohio college. It was during this period, when he was bending every effort 
to master English, that " Gunnar" was written. The purity of style of the 
book is a sufficiently remarkable achievement for any man who had spoken 


the tongue in which he wrote only two years. The production of " Gunnar" 
was the turning point in his life. Being one day in the Harvard College 
Library, he came accidentally in contact with Professor Child, to whom he 
furnished some aid in translating dialect Norse ballads. An acquaintance 
began, and by the professor's invitation, Boyesen read a portion of " Gun- 
nar "at a dinner given to William Dean Howells. Charmed by the fresh 
and idyllic character of the work, Mr. Howells undertook its publication, 
and Boyesen stepped suddenly into a recognized literary position. A year's 
study at Leipsic followed, during which his friendship with Tourgueneff, 
whom he recognized as his master, began. In 1882 he was called to the 
Gebhard professorship of German at Cornell. At his death he occupied 
the chair of Germanic Languages and Literatures in the university. His 
natural insight into the art of literature, and his sympathetic appreciation of 
poetic quality, as well as his deep scholarship, made his teaching peculiarly 
rich, full, and comprehensive. Throughout his lectures and writings he 
sought to advance the cause of good citizenship among his American hear- 
ers, and strove earnestly to produce loyalty to the United States among 
Scandinavian immigrants. 

Mr. Boyesen was the author of more than twenty books. One of his 
dramas, "Ilka on the Hill-top," has been successfully presented in New 
York. His literary creed was realism, but not realism of a severely objective 
or impersonal type ; he aimed at chronicling contemporary life as he saw 
it, not wholly bad or good. His works have brought a new element into 
our literature. They have a grace, virility, and idyllic spirit similar to that 
of Bjornson, but their foreign setting is less difficult to understand. His 
verse is characterized by vigor of imagination, simplicity, and freedom from 
poetic artifice. That he never fully mastered the American point of view 
is evident in his realistic novels. He is at his best in his short Norwe- 
gian stories, which, oddly, are romantic to a degree. Their chief imper- 
fections are due to lack of technique ; this, however, is overbalanced 
by their delicacy of conception and purity of expression. The pervading 
idea of each is the development of some artistic instinct in the principal 
character. The work of Professor Boyesen has been a brilliant part of that 
of the New York literary circle. It was, as he himself realized, but a proph- 
ecy of higher achievement, now, unhappily, never to be realized. 



We have electric lights and paved walks. We have political rallies and 
may have intercollegiate tennis tournaments ; but one thing we have not yet 
attained, if one may be allowed to speak from the point of view of a member 
of an imaginary committee, and that is, a lively sense of individual responsi- 
bility. We do feel responsible to a large degree for our academic work, or 
if not, we suffer the consequences ; but our outside obligations are not held 
with the same keen searchlight before the eye of our inner consciousness. 
To be sure, duties of an outside organization are secondary to class-room 
work ; but it is not the point in question whether or not such obligations 
should be incurred by the student who has come to college for four years' 
study, but whether once accepted, they should not be faithfully observed. 

It is not the wish of the present writer to pose as a youthful moralist, 
but simply as one of the above-mentioned imaginary committee, who has felt 
the thoughtlessness which has shifted the responsibility, which should be 
equally shared, upon the heads of one or two. 

B., '96. 


One of the main canons of Wellesley's creed has been, hitherto, student 
government. There was a time when the Free Press fairly groaned under 
the weight and number of articles sent in upon that subject, and when every 
student talked it, believed it, and, so far as was consistent with College rules, 
obeyed it. Mass meetings were in order, before which came up vexed ques- 
tions. Now all discontent and dissatisfaction has settled down to complaints 
made to other girls, and mild growlings when there is no one about who has 
power to remedy the trouble. If there are in College, matters which seem 
to us to need reform, if there are rules which seem to us unjust, why do we 
spend our time in uttering childish complaints where they will have no force ? 
Why do we not report these matters to the authorities who have them in 
charge, or why do we not hold mass meetings, discuss these questions, and 
act in a legitimate and businesslike way concerning them ? Wellesley has 


never decreed that her students should have no voice in their own govern- 
ment ; she has never said that they must silently endure inconveniences and 
annoyances of which she is ignorant. Though we may have no right or 
authority to act upon these matters directly, we can at least petition con- 
cerning them, or express our convictions. 



The difficulty of getting reference books is always with us. No one 
who does not spend most of her time in the library can realize the extent to 
which books, supposed to be on reference lists, are misplaced between the 
hours in which the tables are put in order. The appearance of works on 
early English among Nineteenth Century Literature strikes one as a sort of 
anachronism which will occasion delay to anybody in search of those 
volumes. Absent-mindedness about returning books to their rightful places 
is a fruitful source of the annoyance continually arising from missing works. 

H. M., '96. 


I have the enviable delight of writing a Free Press article on our bless- 
ings. I must confess I have tried earnestly to find instead some sin of the 
faculty, some abuse perpetrated on the student, but the sins and the abuses 
will probably all be remedied before this Magazine comes from press, and I 
am free to let them alone. 

As one of the students suggested, "There is the lake, and woods, and 
the moon." There is the soft, misty whiteness of the night, with the half 
moon over the hills and the gray shadows on the campus ; there is the wild 
rush of November days, with the foam-capped waters, the flocks of birds 
flying steadily southward, and the mournful, mysterious, wailing winds that 
haunt the treetops and the casement windows. 

There are the cordial fellowships, the class ties that grow stronger with 
each week ; there are the half hours at the tea table or the minute's chat in 
the corridor which mark the beginning of friendships which seem the best gift 
of Wellesley. 


There is the course that leaves you awe-struck before the possibilities of 
your growth, that makes you dimly comprehend the beauty and unity hid 
within that word, little understood, " study." 

It is a world full of joy, a world full of friends, a world full of books, 
all three in one world, Wellesley. Is it any wonder that we hold ourselves 
dearer, we keep ourselves purer, for her very name's sake? 

E. H. Y., '96. 


There's a Spirit in the air, the rollicking, woodsy, care-free Spirit of 
October, mischievous, and a tease. He gets into one's legs as Drumtochty 
said the Hebrew had " gaen doon and settled " in the minister's. We want 
to dance, to have a try at the Highland fling, the hornpipe, or even the long- 
forgotten hoppity skip of childhood days. As for Senior dignity — the bold 
Spirit tosses the black tassel into our eyes and tweaks impudently at the 
ends of the reverend black sleeves till in exasperation we turn and he is off, 
a little mocking brownie, convulsed with laughter, dancing on one foot 
among the brown leaves, his small derisive shoulders bunched up, his teasing 
eyes winking over one tantalizing leveled finger. But we shall laugh too 
some day. Wait, presto, change ! and it is the morning after the hard frost. 
There is nature caught in the act of a midnight revel, petrified with amaze- 
ment, held hard and stiff all in her party dress, like Cinderella, while the sun 
rises and laughs her to confusion. Now, sly October, are you forced to 
pause breathless, agape, to look on with round dismayed eyes while the 
yellow beech leaves, at the silent touch of the sun, fall softly, rustling down 
in the very golden shower of the myth, softly, unceasingly, just whispering 
to themselves as they hurry. All the king's horses and all the king's men 
could not put Humpty Dumpty together again, sly October. The beech 
leaves are doomed. 

What wonder that some of the spirit gets into the October magazines in 
the way of a living feeling for fun and "ga'itie." Yet the true spirit of it 
has always that swift touch of sympathy for the passing of things which is 
ever close to the heart of nature, be it in brownie, bird or man. Here is 
an expression of it : — 



Quick is the beat of tapping feet, 

Laughter sounds thro' the lighted hall, 

Matrons, men, and merry maids, too, 

Gladsome dance at the harvest ball. 

Golden wheat and apples red, 

From the lofty rafters swing — 

Bowls of cider rich and brown 

Breathe their perfume 'wildering. 
"Backward! forward!" the fiddler calls, 
" All join hands to the merry din ! " 

And then he bows his old gray head 

Caressingly over the violin — 

Soft and sweet the sound steals forth, 

Till, one by one, the dancers fade, 

And he and she in their first glad youth 

Are sitting alone 'neath the linden's shade. 

For only a moment the picture comes — 

That dream of the long ago, 

And then — he is playing the money musk 

With " Backward! forward! all in a row! " 

— Smith College Monthly. 

And'here again, a quieter bit : — 


I loved thee as a child and chased 

Thy oft-delaying flight, with breathless glee, 

Through laurels and down lilac lanes from which 

I shook the dew as I pursued and thou did'st flee. 

It was thy gold, O butterfly, 

That caught the childish fancy of my eye, 

But when within my hands thy powdered gold fell off, 

I cast thee by to weep, 

And then again in dreams I'd chase thee in my sleep. 

I love thee still and in a passive way 

I sit and watch thy full content to sip 

The brightly sparkling nectars that the shades 

Of night have brewed upon the languid lily's lip. 

I see thy dalliance, butterfly, 

That makes the rose to blush a deeper dye; 

I watch thee chase thy shadow in the tulips' bed 

In quiet summer hours ; 

I laugh and thou art lost among some sweeter flowers. — Tale Lit. 


The following verses, though earlier in time, are fairly infectious with 
fancies of freedom and the woods : — 


Moonbeam meshes tangled lie 

On the grass tops, in the hollow, 
Round and round the wood nymphs fly, 
Chasing hard the satyrs follow. 
" Catch us, catch us if you can," 

Laugh the wood nymphs in the hollow. 
Shout the satyrs, "Follow! follow!" 
"Catch us! " — "Follow" — "if you can." 

All about the bright moon weaves 
Mingled shadows, softly falling. 
In and out among the leaves 
Dance the wood nymphs gayly calling. 
" Catch us, catch us if you can," 

Laugh the wood nymphs in the hollow. 
Shout the satyrs, "Follow! follow!" 
" Catch us!" — "Follow " — "if you can." 

Lower, lower drops the moon, 

Oh the witching summer weather ! 
Hark, the midnight hour! too soon 
Moonlight, fairies fly together. 
" Catch us, catch us if you can," 

Laugh the wood nymphs in the hollow. 
Shout the satyrs, "Follow! follow!" 
"Catch us!" — "Follow" — " if you can." 

— The Mount HoUjoke. 

We turn reluctantly from our jolly friend, the woodsy Spirit of nature, 
but only to greet with enthusiasm another which is, perhaps, near akin, the 
Spirit of College Sentiment. We find hints of it in all the wide-awake edito- 
rials and comments on the new year, and we come face to face with it in the 
leader of the Yale Literary Magazine. " There is one kind of sentiment — 
thank Heaven ! — which even Dr. Nordeau might dissect in vain for signs of 
degeneration. It is what we call 'college sentiment,' " by which is meant the 
good strong healthy love and loyalty of a man for his college, the spirit, the 
ideal of whose function is that of putting a just valuation upon every branch 
of college life and work. Let the standards of honor be high, the standards 


of men broad. "As man to man" for a motto, and "college courtesy, 
veracity, the power of estimating things truly, every elevating tendency will 
nourish as never before." The article sounds the true note of honor. Dr. 
Cuthbert Hall, in the leading article of the University Magazine, makes an 
application of the Spirit in a strong argument against compulsory attendance 
at chapel. It is interesting to note that a committee of the trustees of con- 
servative Williams, of which Dr. Hall is chairman, has been appointed to 
consider the question there. 

We regret that we can not more than note the exceptionally good 
numbers of The Mount Holyoke and the Vassar Miscellany. The former 
publishes a list of freshmen, but probably this may be attributed to the hint 
of another strong spirit, the Spirit of Progress, of which space will not 
permit us to treat. May we, with the permission of a contemporary, requote : — 

"What's done we partly may compute, 
But know not what's resisted." 


The Individual and the State, by Thomas Wardlaw Taylor, Jr., M..A. 
Pp. 88. Ginn & Co. 

The contents of this demure-looking little work cannot fail to command 
the attention of any student of social relations. Conciseness of statement, 
and a clear-cut, simple, and forcible style, together with a delightful absence 
of technical legal terms, make it an especially valuable reference book. 

Mr. Taylor opens his subject by a treatment of the rationalization of 
society, in which he traces human association to the religious bond, first in 
the Lares worship of antiquity, and again in the church unity of the Middle 
Ages. After the development of society, came that of the individual, which 
began with the teaching of Christianity, disappeared in the Dark Ages, and 
rose again with the reawakening of thought. 

In considering men in their relation to the State, the subject of equality 
naturally first presents itself. It is a doctrine which has had many exponents ; 
the communal influence of stoicism, the spread of Christianity, the Reforma- 
tion, Rousseau, and the Revolution, have all aided in its development. 


Nevertheless, the inequalities which are present in all nature, exist among 
men. Class inequalities have not been lessened by progress in wealth, 
politics, or society. The success of individualism is the triumph of in- 

The work closes with a clear and careful treatment of personality, the 
moving force in human life. While it is the only guiding and creative power 
in society or the State, it must, from the restraint exercised over it by law, 
be in eternal conflict with governmental conservatism. The limitation of 
individual rights is the basis of society. No so-called "natural rights of 
man " may limit the office or activity of the State, the highest of human in- 
stitutions. As legal and moral rights exist only in connection with each 
other and with personality, so the individual and social existence of man are 
inseparable. The entirety of life which constitutes the State cannot, says 
Mr. Taylor, be explained on a rationalistic basis. " To know the end of the 
State would be to know the end of all life." 

Sainte-Beuve : /Selected Essays. International Language Series, Ginn & 
Co. With Introduction, Bibliography, and Notes, by John R. Effinger, Jr. 

This convenient series of extracts from the works of the chief critic of 
the modern French Romantic School will be welcome to all who are inter- 
ested in the literature of France. The selections are from the series of essays 
published in the government journals during the years 1849 to 1861, which 
covers the whole field of French literature, and forms the most remarkable 
collection of criticism in any language. 

The volume contains two articles on "Chateaubriand," " Madame Re- 
camier," " Qu'est-Ce Qu'un Classique?" " Le Roman de Renart," "Alfred de 
Musset," and " Histoire de l'Academie Francaise." Especially valuable to 
students are the second essay on " Chateaubriand," in which Sainte-Beuve 
defines his idea of the study of literary genius, and the critical papers on 
"Alfred de Musset" and the "French Academy." Appended is a list of 
Sainte-Beuve's principal works, together with a bibliography of books, essays, 
and magazine articles in French and English, which furnish aid in the study 
of the author. 

Lessing's Emilia GaTotti. With Introduction and Explanatory Notes 
by Max Poll, Ph.D. Ginn & Co. 


A new edition of this important German tragedy comes to us from the 
hands of u Harvard instructor. It is a reprint, with reformed Prussian 
orthography, from Lachmann's critical edition of Lessing's works. The notes 
give the signification of rare words. They differ in their explanations of 
certain passages from those of other commentators. The Introduction, which 
aims at condensing older articles on "Emilia Galotti," is interestingly 
written, and furnishes a pleasant change from the arid information commonly 
prefixed to classic works. It deals with the conception and composition of 
the play, and describes the scene in which it is laid. Parallel passages from 
the different Virginia plays in German, French, Spanish, and English are 
quoted, and criticism of the characters, of the development of the plot, and 
of the diction, is given. The editor concludes his work with an account of 
the widespread influence of the tragedy upon contemporaneous writers. 


History of Greece, for Colleges and High Schools, by Philip Van Ness 
Myers, L.H.D. Boston and London : Ginn & Co. Price, $1.40. 

The Individual and the Stale, by Thomas Wardlaw Taylor, Jr., M.A. 
Boston and London : Ginn & Co. Price, 80 cents. 

Lessing's Emilia Galotti, edited by Max Poll, Ph.D. Boston: Ginn 
& Co. Price, 70 cents. 

Selected Essays from Sainte-Beuve, with Introduction, Bibliography, 
and Notes by John R. Effinger, Jr. Boston : Ginn & Co. 

Old South Leaflets for 1895. Published by the Directors of the Old 
South Historical Studies, Boston. 


A regular meeting of the Shakespeare Society was held October 26. 
The following programme was presented : — 

Browning's Dramatic Structure. 

I. Shakespeare News .... Maud Ahny. 







Andrea Del Sarto : 

A Study of the Dramatic Monologue, 
Tableaux from Andrea Del Sarto. 
The Ring and the Book : 

A Study of Form .... 
Character Impersonations : Guido, Cap- 

onsachi Pompilia. 
Development of Structure, as shown by 

(1) Pippa Passes ; 

(2) In a Balcony . 

VII. Strafford as the Completed Drama . 

VIII. Dramatic' Representation, In a Balcony : 

Constance . 
Norbert . 

Queen ...... 

Miss Kelsey, '95, was present. 

Juliet Duxbury 

Elizabeth Snyder. 

Virginia Sherwood. 
Carlotta Swett. 

Elizabeth Adams. 
Constance Emerson. 
Gertrude Rushmore. 

A meeting of Society Zeta Alpha was held October 19. Miss Josephine 
Hayward and Miss Freda Moore were initiated. The following programme 
was presented : — 

General Subject : Modern Poetry. 
Writers of Magazine Verse 
The Child Element in Modern Verse 
Women Writers of Recent Poetry . 
Aldrich and Gosse. 

Rebekah Blan chard. 

Agnes Caldwell. 

Martha Shackford. 

The following old members were present : Miss Belle Sherwin, Miss 
Gertrude Smith, Miss Mary Barrows, Miss Marion Canfield. 

At the meeting of the Agora in Elocution Hall, Saturday evening, October 
5, the Society initiated Miss Mary Cross, Miss Carrie Howell, Miss Helen 
Pettee, Miss Mary Capen, Miss Frances Rousmaniere, Miss Helen Buttrick, 
Miss Eleanor Brooks, Miss Helen Damon, and Miss Ruth Goodwin, all of '98. 
Miss Gail Laughlin, '94, Miss Florence Tobey, '94, Miss Maud Thompson 
and Miss Sarah Bixby, '94, were present at the meeting. 


At a meeting of the Agora Saturday, October 19, extemporaneous 
speeches were given on — 

The French Conquest of Madagascar, by Miss Mary Capen, '98. 
The Present Status of the Armenian 

Question, by . . . Miss Gertrude Devol, '97. 

The Political Situation in New York, by Miss Mary Cross, '98. 
After these speeches the following programme was presented to the 
Society : — 

Position of the State in America. 
I. Relation of the State to the City. 

a. Legislative Control of State over 

City Annie E. Cobb. 

b. Recent Movements toward Home Rule 

for Cities ..... Anne L. Bixby. 

c. Effects of State Interference . . Cora F. Stoddard. 
II. Relation of the State to the Federal 

Government ..... Louise McNair. 

A Referendum Rally was held in the gymnasium October 26, under the 
auspices of the Agora. Miss Young, '96, presided, and the programme con- 
sisted of short speeches by Miss Patterson, '98, Miss Hathaway, '97, Miss 
Bennett, Special, Miss Blanchard, '96, Miss Laughlin, '94, and Professor 
Hayes. An interesting informal discussion followed. The sentiment of the 
whole meeting was strongly in favor of Woman Suffrage. 

Before the regular programme meeting of the Classical Society, Saturday 
evening, October 19, a short business meeting was held, The elections of 
officers for this year were completed. The following programme was then- 
presented : — 


a. Symposium. 

Latest News from Classic Lands. 
Excavations at Olympia. 

b. I. The Olympic Festivals . . Gertrude A. Pomeroy. 


II. Recitations. 

Pindar's Olympic Ode . . Ethelyn Price. 
Lysias's Panegyric, §§ 1, 2 . M. Isabel Thy ng. 

The first regular meeting of Society Tau Zeta Epsilon was held in 
Tau Zeta Epsilon Hall, Saturday evening, October 26. The subject of 
study for the year is " A Trip Through England and Scotland." The first 
programme was as follows : — 



Warwick, paper ...... Miss Dennison. 

Music ....... Miss Lunt. 

English Ballad ...... Miss Cushing. 

Reading from Kenilworth .... Miss Lunt. 

A regular meeting of Phi Sigma was held Saturday evening, October 
26. The new programme for the first semester was begun. The following 
programme was given on the subject English Society as Criticized by 
Modern Fiction : — 

Thackeray's Satire of English Society . . Miss Baxter. 

Music Miss Paul. 

Dickens's Picture of the Sufferings of the 

Lower Classes ..... Miss Coolidge 

George Eliot's Treatment of Society . . Miss Woodin. 

Music ....... Miss Batchelder. 

An initiation meeting of the Phi Sigma Society was held September 12, 
in Society Hall. The following members were received into the Society : 
Elizabeth M. Hiscox, '97 ; Jane N. Cool, Sarah L. Doyle, Amelia M. 
Ely, Mary Finlay, Mary L. Hamblet, Helen H. Hunt, Betty B. Scott, 
May W. Serviss, Ellen D. Smith, Eunice C. Smith. Mabel Curtis, Josephine 
Holley, Mary Lauderburn, '90 ; Alice Clement, Rachel Hart well, '91 ; Frances 
Lance, '92; Clara Count, Helen Eager, Mary Hill, Edith White, '93; 
Mary Holmes, Ethel Stanwood, '94 ; May Cannon, Elizabeth Stark, Helen 
James, '95, were present at the meeting. 



November 3. Rev. A. E. Dunning, D.D. 
November 10. Rev. G. E. Horr. 
November 17. Rev. Judson Smith, D.D. 
November 24. Rev. David N. Beach. 


October 8 the electric lights were turned on for the first time in the 
grounds. The dismal hollow by Longfellow is now almost radiant, and the 
darksome wood beyond the stables now ceases to cast its dread shadow over 
us. Of all the improvements of the new year, the lighting of the grounds 
seems the most welcome. 

Miss May Cannon, '95, was at College, October 8. 

October 7 the Beethoven Club of Boston gave a concert, which was 
greatly enjoyed. Their annual visit here is always eagerly looked forward to. 

Miss Elizabeth Stark, '95, is at the College every Friday. She is taking 
the course in Daily Themes. 

Athletics seem to be in an even more flourishing condition than usual. 
The tennis courts are largely patronized, in fact are seldom deserted, and the 
basket-ball teams practice daily. Several matched games have already been 
played. Golf, too, is flourishing, though it has not yet gained so much 
favor as basket ball ; and the number of bicycles spinning about the grounds 
was never so great. All indications go to show that Wellesley does not 
intend to remain in the background in her interest in athletics. 

Saturday evening, October 12, the annual reception of the Sophomores 
to the Freshmen was held. The center at the Main Building was decorated 
with the cornflower blue of '98, and the pretty tea tables, with their dainty 
furnishings, made cozy corners everywhere. The special reception was held 
as usual on the third floor. 


Miss Cummings, of the Botany Department, who is enjoying a year of 
rest away from the College, is expected to return for a visit of a week or two. 

The Senior Class has chosen for officers of this year : Miss Margaret 
Kittinger, vice president ; Miss Dartt, recording secretary ; Miss Thomas, 
corresponding secretary ; Miss Bullis, treasurer ; Miss Kendall and Miss 
Pullen, historians ; Miss Mott, Miss Willis, and Miss Nevers, executive 

Sunday, October 13, Rev. Louis B. Paton preached in the chapel. 
Those who ventured out in the face of the storm felt well repaid for their 

The reorganization of the bicycle club took place October 11. A number 
of students applied for admission at that date. 

The officers of '97 for the Junior year are : Helen Gordon, president ; 
Carolyn M. Davis, vice president ; Louise Hutcheson, recording secretary ; 
Edith May, corresponding secretary ; Mary North, treasurer ; Lucy Freeman 
and Mary Haskell, historians ; Hortense Wales and Jennie Warfield, factotums ; 
Elizabeth Evans, Mary Dewson, and Katharine Pinkham, executive com- 
mittee. This enterprising class conducted their elections by the Australian 
ballot system. This method seems to be remarkably expeditious, and is 
worthy of imitation by other classes. The Class of '97 is to be congratulated 
upon having established so valuable a precedent. 

The Magazine Board regrets extremely the resignation of Miss Mary 
Woodin. Miss Theresa Huntington has been elected in her place. 

A row of maples has been set out bordering the path around Stone Hall 
hill. '* Alma Mater's grandchildren " will thus be screened from the fiery 
sun of June and September, as they wend their way up from the village to 
the noble edifice on Chapel Hill. Will they come by that path, however? 

The tennis match which was to have taken place between the champions 
of Wellesley and Radcliffe on October 28, has been postponed by the illness 
of one of the Radcliffe champions. It is feared that no match can now be 
arranged this fall. 


Mr. E. Charlton Black, of Cambridge, lectured on Burns, October 14. 
Mr. Black showed great sympathy with his subject, and his rendering of 
Burns's poems was especially delightful. 

The Class of '98 has chosen as officers for the following year : Miss 
Higgins, president; Miss Hay ward, vice president ; Miss Patterson, record- 
ing secretary ; Miss Hamblet, corresponding secretary ; Miss Seelman, 
treasurer ; Misses Malone and MacMillan, historians. 

The announcement has been made that next year domestic work is to be 
given up, and the tuition increased to four hundred dollars. 

Miss Hardy has been unable to meet her classes for some time, owing to 
serious illness. We are glad to learn that she is improving. 

It has been deemed advisable to charge admission to the concerts in the 
case of outside guests. Henceforward a limited number of tickets will be on 
sale at fifty cents apiece. 

At the tennis tournament, October 14, Miss Mary Dewson, '97, again 
secured the college championship. 

The Boston Wellesley Club met in the Faculty Parlor, Saturday after- 
noon, October 26. This fact was of importance to undergraduates because 
of the large number of members of '95 who returned on that day. Among 
others were Miss Prior, Miss Rogers, Miss Weaver, Miss Kelsey, Miss 
Brown, and Miss Barnefield. 

Saturday the patriotic among Faculty and students repaired to the village 
for the purpose of registration, and in the evening a Referendum Rally was 

Sunday, October 27, the Rev. Charles Brown, of Charlestown, preached 
in the chapel. In the evening Mrs. Montgomery, of Rochester, spoke. 

There are still a few '95 "Legendas," which may be had by prompt 
application to Miss Katherine Fackenthal, College Hall. 

Owing to an oversight on the part of the editors, the names of the 
business editors were incorrectly printed in the October Magazine, and 
attention is called to the change at this time. 



The Boston Wellesley College Club met at Wellesley in Horsford parlor, 
Saturday afternoon, October 26, with the president, Retta L. Winslow, 
'88, in the chair. President Irvine addressed the club upon the changes in 
the College, and Dean Stratton also spoke upon "The Old and the New 
Wellesley." A social half hour followed the addresses. The meeting was a 
most delightful one, and was well attended. 

Agnes W. Damon, Secretary. 

Regular meetings of the Wellesley Club of New York will hereafter be 
held on the third Saturday of each month, from October to April inclusive, at 
half past two. Notice of the place of meeting may usually be found in The 
Wellesley Magazine for the month ; and all Wellesley girls in the 
neighborhood are cordially welcomed at any time as members or guests. 
The October meeting fell on Saturday the 19th, when Mrs. John D. Barrett 
entertained the Club at her home, 24 West 71st Street. Especial interest 
was given to the meeting by the presence of Mrs. Irvine, and a little talk 
from her of Wellesley. After Mrs. Irvine's talk tea was served, by the kind 
hospitality of the hostess. 

The Boston College Club entertained Ellen Terry 2 2d October. 
Among those present were Miss Retta Winslow, '88 ; Miss Lauderburn and 
Miss Holley, '90 ; Miss Minnie Morss and Miss Juliet Wall, '91 ; Miss Fiske 
and Mrs. Elinor Bruce Snow, '92 ; and Miss Frances Pinkham, '93. 

Prof. Katharine Lee Bates and Dr. Charlotte F. Roberts, both of '80, 
spent 18th and 19th October at Smith College. 

Miss Laura A. Jones, B.A., '82, M.A., '91, is principal of the Hardy 
School, Duluth, Mich. With her are Miss Alma Jones, '77-80 ; Miss Grace 
L. Darling, Miss Mary R. Eastman, '92 ; Miss Mary L. Salter, '94 ; Miss 
Blanche Marot, Miss Mary L. Marot, and Miss Edith Wright. 

Miss Alice Hanson Luce, '83, is doing a second year of German Uni- 
versity work. Her subjects are English and German. 


Mrs. Louise Palmer Vincent's ('86) address is 5833 Madison Avenue, 

Miss Clara M. Keefe, '81, has a private pupil in Wellesley, and is also 
doing graduate work at College. 

Miss Sarah J. Storms, '87, is teaching in Prospect Hill School, Green- 
field, Mass. 

Miss May Bean, '88, is doing graduate work at the College. 

Miss Nisba Breckinridge, '88, Miss May Cook, '88, Miss Ethel Glover, 
'90, Miss Fogg, Miss Isabel Stone, '89, Miss Harriet Stone, '88, are study- 
ing at the University of Chicago. 

Miss Vennette Crain, '88, has charge of the Hull House Coffee House. 

Miss Helen Pierce, '88, is teaching in Waterbury, Conn. 

Miss Gertrude Willcox, '88, is in Europe for a year. 

On October 5 the following Chicago Shakespeare Society girls saw 
Ada Rehan in "Taming of the Shrew": Miss Nisba Breckini*idge, '88, Miss 
May Cook, '88, Miss Vennette Crain, '88, Miss Caroline Williamson, '89, 
Miss Ethel Glover, '90, Miss E. C. Brooks, '95, Miss Christine Caryl, '95. 

On October 19 Miss Breckinridge, '88, Miss Cook, '88, Miss Crain, 
'88, Mrs. Louise Palmer Vincent, '86, Miss Caroline Williamson, '89, Miss 
Fogg, Miss E. C. Brooks, '95, Miss Marion Ely, '88, saw Julia Marlowe 
Taber in "As You Like It." 

Miss Sara Groif, '89, and Miss Frances Palen, formerly of '89, are teach- 
ing in the Girls' High School, Philadelphia. 

Miss Eleanor A. McC. Gamble, '89, is studying Philosophy at Cornell 

Miss Katharine E. Horton, '89, is teaching in the Misses Williams's 
School, Windsor, Conn. 

The engagement of Miss Florence Soule, '89, is announced. 


Miss Caroline Williamson, '89, Miss Ethel Glover, '90, Miss Emily 
Fogg, Miss Christine Caryl, Miss Emma C. Brooks, '95, have clubs or 
classes at the University of Chicago Settlement. 

Miss Clara Bacon, '90, is principal of a seminary in Onarga, 111. 

Miss Katherine Quint, '90, a teacher in Tabor Academy, Marion, N. H., 
has been granted a year's leave of absence, and will do graduate work in 
Greek and English at Dartmouth, where she has been admitted by vote of 
faculty and trustees. Miss Quint is the first woman to study at Dartmouth. 

Miss Bell Sherwin, '90, is teaching in Miss Hersey's School, Boston. 

Miss Emma Squires, '91, has returned for a third year to her position 
in Santa Barbara, Cal. 

Miss Ada Woolfolk, '91, is teaching English literature in the school of 
which Miss Knox is principal, at Troy, N. Y. 

Miss Cornelia Green, '92, is studying art in Boston. Address 430 
Marlborough Street. 

Miss Helen Hill, '92, is teaching in the Milwaukee High School (South 

Miss Frances Lance, '92, has returned to her position at Quincy, Mass., 
and comes to the College once a week for work toward an M.A. 

Miss Caroline S. Maddocks, '92, took an M.A. from the University of 
Chicago at the close of the summer term, and is now assistant principal of 
Miss Lipton's School, Paris, Ken. Miss Maddocks is the successor to Miss 
M. E. Trundle, some time a member of '93. 

Miss Florence Converse, '92, is at her home in New Orleans, preparing 
for her winter's work. 

Miss Josephine Emerson, '92, has completed a course of training with 
Baron Passe, with a view to teaching gymnastics this winter in Providence. 

Miss Ethelwyn Moffatt, '92, is teaching at her home in Cumberland, 
Md. This is the third year Miss Moffatt has conducted a private school for 
young ladies. 


Miss Florence Wilkinson, '92, read a paper on "Creative Literary 
Power in College Women," before the Association of Collegiate Alumnae, at 
its annual meeting in October, at Cleveland. 

Miss Alice Hamlin, '93, has been appointed to a fellowship in Philosophy 
at Cornell. 

Miss Grace G. Rickey, '93, is teaching in the High School, Palmer, 


Mrs. Alice Jones Shedd, '93, has changed her address to Ridge Avenue, 
Newton Centre, Mass., P.O. Box 443. 

Miss Caroline W. Mudgett, Sp., '85-86, '90-93, is teaching literature 
at Mary Institute, St. Louis, Mo. Address 3420 Washington Avenue. 

Miss S. C. W. Benson, '94, is teaching in the High School, Ishpeming, 

Miss Susan D. Huntington, formerly '94, spent September on the Rhine 
and in Switzerland. Her corrected address is Avenida de la Libertad 40, 
San Sebastian, Spain. 

Miss Fannie B. Green, '94, is keeping house for her mother and sister 
in Urbana, 111. 

Miss Blanche Thayer, '94, is teaching in South Bethlehem, Penn. 

Miss Delia Wyckoff, '94, is studying medicine at Johns Hopkins. The 
address is 1910 E. Madison Street, Baltimore, Md. 

Miss Gertrude Barker, '95, is teaching in Plattsburgh, N. Y. 

Miss Clara M. Benson, '95, is teaching in High School and Classical 
Institute, Schenectady, N. Y. 

Miss Josephine D. Brooks, and Miss A. C. Howe, both of '95, are 
teaching in the High School, Pepperell, Mass. 

Miss Alice P. Campbell, '95, is teaching in the High School, Milford, 



Miss Edith D. Dexter, '95, is teaching in Friend's Academy, New Bed- 
ford, Mass. 

Miss Susanne E. Goddard, '95, is teaching in the High School, Orange, 


Miss Harriet R. Lance, '95, is teaching in Bloornfield, N. J. 

Miss Marion Lance, '95, substituted in the Bloornfield, N. J., High 
School during October. 

Miss Annie M. Leonard, and Miss Charlotte Goodrich, both of '95, 
are teaching in the Pennsylvania School, Philadelphia, Penn. 

Miss Mary H. Lines, '95, is teaching in Mrs. Starrett's School, Oak 
Park, 111. 

Miss Florence Shirley, '95, was at the College, October 19, and is 
teaching at Milton, Mass. 

Miss Marian P. Stover, '95, is teaching in the University of the North- 
west, Morrngude, Sioux City, la. 

Miss Emma L. Wells, '95, is teaching in the High School, St. Cloud, 

Miss Mary Knowlton, Sp., '94—95, is Superintendent of Music in the 
Schools at West Chester, Penn. 

The fall meeting of the College Settlements Association was held at 
Denison House, Boston, Saturday, October 12. Representatives from Smith, 
Wellesley, Vassar, Bryn Mawr, Radclifte, Packer, Swarthmore, Barnard, 
Cornell, were present. A public meeting was held at Association Hall, Mon- 
day, October 14. The speakers were Miss Susan Walker, Bryn Mawr, for 
the Association ; Miss Ada Woolfolk, Wellesley, for the New York Settle- 
ment ; Miss Katharine Davis, Vassar, for the Philadelphia Settlement; Mr. 
McNeil and Rev. C. H. Brent, for Denison House. Miss Helena Dudley, 
head worker at Denison House, presided. 

Denison House, the Boston College Settlement, is proud to tell its 
friends of its prospects for enlarged activity. The house now occupied and 


the next house, No. 91 Tyler Street, have been bought by some one who will 
rent them to the Settlement, content with six per cent on the investment. 
This will so reduce the rent rate that the two houses will be had for only one 
hundred dollars more a year than has been paid for one. The houses are to 
be connected, and the lower floor of 91 is to be thrown into a large room, of 
which the Wellesley girls who have visited the Settlement on Thursday even- 
ings will recognize the need. There will be additional class rooms, a new 
resident's sitting room, and accommodation for five more residents. The 
work will surely keep pace with its new opportunities, and the house should 
be a center of delight to the neighborhood. To repair and furnish the new 
house, $4,000 must be raised; $1,000 of this is already promised. Denison 
House hopes that as many pleasant associations with the different colleges 
may gather around the new house as those which give a special charm to 
almost every room in the old. The room furnished by Wellesley in No. 93 
is now set apart for the use of the head worker. 

There will be a fair at Hotel Vendome, Boston, November 27, from 9 
A. M. to 10 p. m., for the benefit of the Industrial School for the Colored. 
Contributions, fancy work, sketches, pictures, are asked, and may be sent to 
Miss M. R. Keller, Wellesley. For further notice see the Boston Transcript 
for November 11. 

The October weeks at Denison House have marked the transition from 
the work which characterizes summer life to that of the more earnest life of 
winter. With one or two exceptions the residents for the year have taken 
their places, hence the number of transient visitors decreases and the house 
assumes the stable aspect of home. 

Out-of-door life, which means country and flowers, to weary city work- 
ers and children, and the vacation school which embodied the important 
features of settlement work this summer, have given way to classes and clubs 
which are to continue through the winter. Literature, travel, French, 
spelling, and writing classes have begun, and others in Art, Drawing, and 
various subjects are to be organized. 

Especially favorable and promising is the outlook for clubs : those for 
children, the mothers, and young people, have started out with full member- 


ship. Dr. Brown, of San Francisco, met with the mothers October 18, and 
gave a helpful talk. Through the Hudson Street Kindergarten it is possible 
for the Mother's Club to reach a larger circle of people than can be done by 
any of our other clubs. Once a month the mothers of all children, about 
sixty in number, attending the Kindergarten, are invited to a tea at the 
school, and a smaller club of twenty-five meets regularly at Denison House. 
The Fortnightly Club of young men and women is a new departure. 
The Thursday evening parties will form, as heretofore, a regular feature of 
our social life. 

It is a pleasure to feel able to I'ely upon the Wellesley Chapter for co- 
operation this coming year and to look forward to a continuation of her 
hearty support. 


Holmes-Dole. — In Winchendon, Mass., Sept. 3, 1895, Miss Dorothy 
Lees Dole, '89, and Mr. Benjamin Blake Holmes, of Brooklyn Hill Institute. 

Whistler-Stevens. — At 138 St. Botolph St., Boston, Miss Mary 
Lowe Stevens, '89, to Mr. John T. Whistler. 

Potter- Arnold. — In Worcester, Mass., July 9, 1895, Miss Anna 
Louise Arnold, '90, to Mr. Elmer Carlton Potter. At home, 120 Elm St., 
Worcester. (Mr. Potter teaches in Worcester High School.) 

Kingsley-Cook. — In Detroit, Mich., Aug. 28, 1895, Miss Bessie Les- 
quereux Cook, '90, to Mr. Sherman C. Kingsley. At home, 542 Columbus 
Ave., Boston. 

Haynes-Trlxdle.— In July, 1895, Miss M. E. Trundle to Mr. W. D. 
Haynes, of Paris, Ky. 


October 3, 1895, a daughter, Marjory Lois, to Mrs. Maud Fales Strong, 


July 2, a son, George Lovering, to Mary Walker Porter, '89. 



October 20, 1895, Mr. Warner J. Banes, husband of Mrs. Stella 
Wrenn Banes, '88. 

Whereas, It has seemed best to our Heavenly Father, in his mercy 
and providence, to remove from among us our beloved classmate and friend, 
Lena Brown Preston, be it 

Resolved, That we, the Class of '90, hereby express our sorrow for the 
loss we have suffered, and offer our deepest sympathy to her husband, her 
family, and her friends in their bereavement. 

Resolved, That a copy of these resolutions be sent to her family, and 
that a copy be sent for publication in the Wellesley Magazine. 

[Signed.] Mary D. E. Lauderburn. 
Jennie Cory Lindsey. 
Henrietta E. Hardy. 



202 to 212 Boylston Street, and Park Square, 

Ladies' Ready-made Costumes. 

New Fashions for the Coming Season. 

Mixed Cheviots and Heavy Diagonals 
in Walking Suits, all on Silk . . . 

$2^.00 to $5^.00 

Ladies' Jackets and Capes. . . 

New Designs and Materials. 

Jaunty Reefers and Short Coats, 

especially adapted for School Wear, at 

very reasonable prices. 

Golf Capes, $15.00 to $25.00 

'OUR attention is called to our assortment of 

Jewelry and Silverware 


ARTICLES for the Toilet Table and 
Writing Desk, in artistic patterns, 
a specialty. 

The newest designs of Fancy Jewelry, 
Hair Ornaments, Fans, and Opera 
Glasses in stock. 

We respectfully invite you to visit our store, whether you purchase or not. 

A. StOWell & Co., 24 Winter Street, Boston. 

Cotrell & Leonard 

New York, 

Makers of 

Caps and 

To the 

American . . 

Illustrated . . . 

Catalogue and 
Particulars on 

Artists' Materials . . . 

£k Drafting Instruments. 
Art Studies and Books. 

Oil and Water Colors, Crayons, Materials 
For Tapestry, Painting, etc. 

Wadsworth, Howland & Co. 


82 and 84 Washington Street, Boston. 

Branch Store in the 

Grundmann Studios, Clarendon Street, 

Near St. James Avenue. 
Principal Factories 

Maiden, Mass., and South Paris, Maine. 



Mackintoshes and Cravenettes, 


S2.00 TO $25. OO. 

lUellesley Preparatory, 


Prices 25 per cent lower than Dry Goods Stores. 
. . . Special IO per cent to Wellesley Students . . . 


Metropolitan Rubber Co., 



Miss Charlotte H. Conant, B.A. 
Miss Florence Bigelow, M.A. 

Gloves and Veiling. 

MISS M. F. FISK, jg3t§ 


Calls the attention of the Young Ladies to her stock of Kid. Undressed Kid, and Dog Skin Gloves that 

are suitable for all occasions, also her very becoming stock of Veilings, and solicits their 

patronage, and will give to any of the students 6 per cent discount. 

Hotel Bellevue, 



Special attention given to Club Dinners and Receptions. 




Hlatnematlcal Instruments, 

Colors, Drawing Papers, Blue Process Papers, T Squares, 

Scales, Curves, Triangles, and all kinds of 

Architects' and Engineers' Supplies, 


. . AT . . 

Frost & Adams Co. 

Importers, Wholesale and Retail Dealers. 

New Catalogue free on application. 
. . Special Discount to Students of Wellesley 



in all Departments 
of Literature . 

can be found at our store. The largest 
assortment in Boston of the popular and 
standard authors. Also a large variety 
at special reductions. Large variety of 
Bibles, Prayer Books, Booklets, tic. 

We are noted for low prices. 


The Archway Bookstore, 


Shreve. Crump I Low Co. 
Jewelers * Silversmith 


Fine Stationery. Card Engraving. 

Programs and Invitations, both printed and 
engraved. Class Day Programs a specialty. 

Class Pins designed and manufactured to 

Parasols and Umbrellas made to order, re- 
covered and repaired. 


. .ONLY. . 

First Class Tlpii Gar Route 


Through Trains Leave Boston as follows : — 
8.30 a. m. (ex. Sunday) Day Express. 
10.30 a. m. (daily) Chicago Special. 
2.00 p. m. (daily) North Shore Limited. 
3.00 p. m. (ex. Sundays) St. Louis and 

Chicago Express. 
7.15 p. m. (daily) Pacific Express. 


. . FOR . . 

Hartford, New Havens New York. 



9.00 a.m. (ex. Sunday) 3.30 p.m. 
11.00 a.m. (ex. Sunday) 5.28 p.m. 
12.00 Noon (ex. Sunday) 5.32 p.m. 

4.00 p.m. (daily) 10.00 p.m. 

( New Equipment built by the Pullman Co.) 
11.00 p.m. (daily) 6.41a.m. 

For tickets, information, time-tables, etc., apply 
to nearest ticket agent. 


General Passenger Agent. 


Speaking of Sho^s 

Have you seen the new line of Ladies' 
Shoes and Slippers we have just received 
for the fall and winter trade? We have 
them in the following styles: Needle, 
Razor, and Opera Toe, with and with- 
out extension soles. 


Odd Fellows Block, NATICK, MASS. 


344 Washington Street, Boston. 

Manufacturers of 
.. FINE . . 

Athletic Supplies. 

Every requisite for 


Lawn Tennis, 


Golf, Cricket, Gymnasium, 

and all other indoor 
or outdoor sports or 

Send for illustrated catalogue 

The Dana Hall School, 


Pupils are prepared for regular or for special courses at 
Wellesley College. 

Price for Board and Tuition, $500 for the school year; 
Tuition for day pupils, $125. 

For further information address the Principals : 

Julia A. Eastman, 
Sarah P. Eastman. 

1HHelle6le\> Pharmacy 


Pure Drugs and Medicines. 

Physicians' Prescriptions a Specialty. 




Opposite Railroad station. Wellesley. 

Flowers and Plants of the choicest varieties for all 
occasions; Palms, etc., to let for decoration. 

FLOWERS carefully packed and forwarded 
by Mail or Express to all parts of the United 
States and Canada. 

43^" Orders by mail or otherwise promptly attended to. 
Connected by Telephone. 


The Senior Class Photographer 

for Wellesley '94 and '95 


Charles W. Hearn, 

392 Boylston Street, 

Mr. Hearn thanks Wellesley students for 
the past two years for their valued patronage, 
and would be pleased to submit prices and 
samples, with a view to his possible selection 
as Class Photographer for Wellesley '96. 

Charles W. Hearn. 

Fine Millinery, 



21 Temple Place, Boston. 

H. W. DOWNS & CO. 

143 Tremont St., Boston. 


French Hats and Bonnets, 

together with a choice selection of Foreign and 
Domestic Novelties for fall and winter. 

Also, full line of Dressmakers' Supplies. 

H. W. DOWNS & CO., H3 Tremont Street. 


Dealers in 

Bicycles 1 Bicycle Supplies. 

All branches of repairing promptly attended to. 

Shop at the Printing Office, near 
Wellesley Hills Square. 

tfSTEight minutes' ride from Wellesley College by electric cars. 





This Coat is 

Owned exclusively by us, and can b» 
found in no other Boston store, so that you should 
not decide on your purchase before seeing it. 

Tailor Made of Superb Kersey, Lined 
Throughout with Silk, Straight Pox or Di= 
agonal Fronts, Light Cream Tans, Rich 
Shades of Darker Tans, Navy Blue, Black. 

Oblige us by comparing it in every detail as to 
cloth, style, and workmanship with anything you 
have seen at $25.00. Call and see it. We shall not 
ask you to buy. 

Discount to Faculty and Students of Wellesley College.. 





A Convincing Argument 

In favor of trading in Natick is the convenience of access 
by the electric cars, which run every half hour; also in 
the larger packages the saving of expense by express, 
breakage, delays, etc. 

In my Framing Department I will allow a discount of 10 
per cent to Wellesley College Students. 

J. E. DeWITT, 


Books, Stationery, and Art Supplies, 

Also Manufacturer of 

Picture F"rames, Mats, etc. 
No. 2 Main Street, NATICK, MASS. 

English Crockery, 

German and Austrian 

\ Japanese Novelties, 
5-0'clock Teas, 

Fancy Rockers, Tea Tables, 

Hook Cases, Carpets, and Rugs. 

Complete House Furnishers. 


6 Main Street, NATICK. 

Free Delivery 


335 Washington Street, Boston. 

College Athletic and Gymnasium Outfitters. 

Crew Sweaters and Jerseys, which are also suitable for all athletic purposes, made to order in any 

style in the best manner. 
A Discount of 10 per cent is given Wellesley students on individual orders. Special net rates for crew or team orders. 

New England Bureau of Education 

If an3 - graduate of Wellesley College should engage to teach five days in a week, and forty weeks 
in a year, at fifty dollars per day, she would have to teach a hundred years to earn the aggregate of sal- 
aries which have been secured to its members by the New England Bureau of Education, during the 
administration of its present manager. These thousands of teachers have been by us placed in positions 
in every State and Territory, and abroad. Now is the time to register. Wellesley graduates are popular 
at this office. Forms and circulars sent free. Address HIRAM ORCUTT, Manager, 3 Somerset St., Boston. 

We have a good stock of 

Veilings, Ribbons, 
Kid Gloves, 

Hosiery, . Cretonnes, . Drapery Muslins, 
and all kinds of embroidery sllks. 

We do Stamping at short notice. 

10 per cent Discount to all Wellesley College Students. 

J. B. LEAMY, Natick, Mass. 

Steam Laundry 

Will call for and deliver clothes at all the College Buildings 

Plain Clothes by the dozen. 
Fancy Ironing by the hour. 
No bleach or acid used, but clothes dried in the 
open air, weather permitting. 

Fine work of all kinds a specialty. Clothes 
handled carefully and ironed neatly. 

A card to the Wellesley Steam Laundry will be 
promptly attended to. 

J. T. MELLUS, Prop. 




Session '95-96 opens October 1, 1895. Four years, Graded Course. Instruction 

by Lectures, Clinics, Recitations and practical work, under supervision in Laboratories 

and Dispensary of College, and in N. Y. Infirmary. Clinics and operations in most of 

the City Hospitals and Dispensaries open to Women Students. 

For Catalogues, etc., address 


321 East 15th. Street, New York. 


All Styles in Razor, Picadilly, 
Opera, or Wide Toes. 

Button and Lace Boots and Oxford Ties 

For Street or Dress Wear. 
SHpperS in Great Variety. 

Over Shoes and Boots of an kinds. 

Prices as reasonable as possible 
consistent with good wearing 

Discount to Faculty and Students of 
Wellesley College. 


No. 469 Washington Street, 
Boston, Mass. 

Ostrich Boas 
and Collarettes. 

In our Trimming Dept. — Street Floor. 

We have in stock a very choice line of Ostrich and Coque 
Feather Boas and Collarettes, an elegant assortment 
of these goods which are now so scarce and desira- 
ble. We have them in all the fashionable lengths and 
variety of styles. Notwithstanding the recent advance 
in prices of Ostrich Feathers, we shall place this in- 
voice on sale at our usual low prices. 

Shepard, Norwell & Company, 

Winter St. and Temple Place, Boston. 


Our own manufacture. 

Made -with Silk Threads only. 

Black, White and Colors. 



Petticoats to Order. 


E. R. KNIGHTS & CO., Proprietors, 

41 Avon St., BOSTON. 

In every department of our store we allow Wellesley Professors and 
Students a discount, generally 10 per cent. 

We deliver all goods free of express charges at Wellesley College and Dana Hall. 

During the year you will notice many attractive goods which your friends at home 
would be glad to see. We shall be glad to send samples at your request. 

Dress Goods, Hosiery, Neckwear, Millinery, 
Underwear and Art Embroideries 

are perhaps some of the departments most interesting to students, but the discount applies 
every department. 


Tremont Street and Temple Place, - - BOSTON, MASS. 

Ladies' and Children's 

Specialty Garment House. 

Young Ladies' Coats, Suits, 
Wraps, Fur Capes, Mackin- 
toshes, and Cravenette Gar- 

The Latest Paris and Berlin Novelties 

always in stock 

at moderate prices . . 

531 and 533 Washington Street, Boston. 

Next door to Boston Theatre. 

Frank Wood, Printer, Boston.